


Remember What Drives You

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan), LeonineHeroes (MissMadWorld)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Doppelganger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Soulmates, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/pseuds/LeonineHeroes
Summary: *Complete* All too soon after a wounded Shiro tells Keith he should lead Voltron in his absence, they are separated by a Galra attack. Months have gone by since then. The paladins of Voltron have been trying to stay under Zarkon's radar while trying to locate their missing leader. Keith finally finds him on a planet like Earth, living a completely different life than the one he left behind. After approaching Shiro, Keith discovers there are more differences than he expected. He has no memory of Voltron, the other paladins, or Keith. Still, Keith believes this is the real Shiro --hisShiro. He'll have to take a chance on his instincts for a shot at rekindling what was lost between them and returning the black paladin to the sky.





	1. Lost but Not Gone

**Author's Note:**

> It's here at last! Our contribution to the Sheith Big Bang! This has been in the works since the end of Season 1, and it's been awesome to see this story grow alongside the series! Armed with my faithful and excellent writing partner, [Cappie](http://leonineheroes.tumblr.com), we are very excited to bring you this fic! Our artist for the event was the absolutely incredible [Elee](http://eleedoesart.tumblr.com), who has also been supporting us from the very start of our partnership. It was an honor to work on this and make it a real thing, and we really hope you enjoy the story!

Keith doesn’t tell them what Shiro had said to him back on that dim little moon they had wrecked on after the compromised wormhole dropped them there to be eaten by space-lizards and worse. There had been no hiding the temporary bond he had forged with the Black Lion to save Shiro, but he can’t--he _can’t_ lead them like Shiro could, and he doesn’t _want_ to. He honestly didn’t think he would have to.

_Pidge had arrived and Keith had already started forgetting the words ‘I want you to lead Voltron.’_

_Red had needed a tow back to the castle ship, still limp and out of commission as she healed from the crash, but even the impotent anxiety of sitting in a wounded lion as they made their way back toward the jump point had started to fade by the time Shiro was settled somewhat stiffly at Black’s controls for the journey back to the Castle Ship. Relief had begun to wedge its way between Keith’s many worries with the knowledge that a healing pod was waiting for the Black Paladin on the other side of the wormhole opening bright as a star above them._  
  
_Then, the Witch’s mini-fleet had caught up to them and the relief spoiled, cream turned to poison in his throat. He should’ve known better than to trust his luck._  
  
_Keith threw himself at his bond with Red, yanked her controls with a nasty brute force as if it might shock her into wakefulness._  
_  
“Pidge, keep going,” Shiro’s voice didn’t crack as it came over the comms. “Get the Red Lion through the wormhole.”_

 " _Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Pidge called back. “Wait, what are you doing?”_

 _"Shiro, no, we have to stay together. You’re--”_  
  
_“I’m sending Black through with you on autopilot,” Shiro cut Keith off, “we have to keep the lions out of their hands--I’ll be right behind you.”_  
  
_“You’re injured, idiot, now is not the time to be making grand heroic gestures!” Hadn’t Shiro_ just _acknowledged his mortality, like half an hour before? Why was he always throwing himself headlong toward the destiny of a martyr?_  
  
_“I’m just diverting some of their attention by giving them a smaller target, they won’t catch any of us if we divide and conquer.” Keith could hear Shiro moving through the Black Lion in the changing echoes of his voice._  
  
_“Oh, and you’re going to conquer that fleet on your own while Pidge tows my ass through the wormhole? I don’t think so.”_  
  
_“Shiro, Keith’s right, once we’re through the wormhole we can all pick off the few that make it through behind us together--”_  
  
_“If we time it right and keep them off balance, none will be able to follow us through. I’ll catch the tail end of the jump.” The whoosh of Shiro’s airlock sounded in all of their helmets and Keith’s head whipped around to stare at the Black Lion as her bay doors dropped open. He felt utterly helpless as he watched the speeder roll forward, Shiro astride and wincing against the tug of his wound._  
  
_“SHIRO--”_  
  
_But he dropped. He dropped like the pit in Keith’s stomach and the intrusive, traitorous speculation that maybe Shiro didn’t_ want _to survive this. Shiro’s speeder careened past the oncoming fleet, drawing the attention of of half the crowd and throwing more off their trajectory to avoid collisions. He streaked between them in a wobbling purple line, his speed only increased by the gravitational pull of the planet below._  
  
_Keith screamed at him. Keith screamed at Red to wake up, wake up--we have to move, we have to catch him! The Red Lion could snatch Shiro’s speeder out of the sky and be back to the wormhole by the time the other two lions passed through but she just wouldn’t wake up, and Keith couldn’t move her._  
  
_Keith was left craning in his seat to watch Shiro’s whip back up and around, tiny in the endless black and zipping between the distracted ships toward the wormhole in a determined line. He was outpacing them and he was so close, but the bright white edges of the portal were closing around them and Shiro wasn’t close enough. Keith nearly shredded his safety harness in his haste to get it off, to eject out and back to Shiro before the wormhole closed--_  
  
_He toppled over as they were jerked back through the cosmos._  
  
_Keith could only hear Pidge’s panting in his ear._  
  
_“Did he make i--”_  
  
_“ALLURA,” Keith roared, and suddenly the consciousnesses of two lions were rumbling in concert with him, fear and fury molten hot like crimson lava seared black by the sea. Red’s console lit up with a quickness, and somewhere in the distance, unbeknownst to Keith, Black’s eyes shone. “Reopen the wormhole, NOW! Shiro’s still back there.”_  
  
_But they had been too late. Where Shiro and the Galra had been moments before, nothing remained but empty space and atmosphere the color of acid far below. Shiro was gone, again._  
  
Gone...but alive. He’s not sure how, but Keith knows. There’s an ultraviolet ember in his blood-red heart that roars its certainty until any glimpse of mournful doubt Keith catches in the faces of his comrades is cowed.  
  
So, Keith searches again. He doesn’t tell the other Paladins that Shiro wanted him to pilot Black, and he dreams every night not of romantic reunions but of bitter, betrayed accusations of abandonment.  
  
He fills up the silence on the bridge where Shiro’s voice of reason should be with his crackling temper, lest any of them even begin to think of asking him to lead them. Better to prove them wrong before they so much as think it. He spreads star maps out on his bedroom floor and crosses out all the vast swaths of space they have scanned in red ink; old habits and all that. Coran had gone out of his way to get him physical copies--staring up at a hologram just doesn’t feel as much like proactive agency as pinning conspiracy string from one side of a paper map to another.

He has to trim his hair. Twice. He tells himself he can’t remember how many times his hair grew out and got trimmed back after the Kerberos mission disappeared, but it’s a lie and he breaks two knuckles against the steel wall behind the mirror. He hates the way time passes in space. Or maybe he just hates that he can still track it with the sweep of his hair against his shoulders and a thumb pressed between the healing fractures.  
  
Then, finally, a blip. Just as Allura starts casting glances between Keith’s hunched shoulders and the hangar where Black will sleep until Shiro’s return if Keith has anything to say about it, there comes a faint, pulsing glow like a heartbeat in the last place they would have thought to look. It had been sheer dumb luck that the system’s search passed over their home quadrant at all.  
  
“His Quintessence signature suggests he should be where the Earth is, but he’s not on Earth. He’s….under it,” Allura says cautiously.  
  
“Not in an _underground_ way,” Pidge supplies quickly, squinting at the way the maps twitch and overlap and frizz out as they attempted to display the abstract mathematics of multiple realities, “more in a dimensional way.”  
  
“He’s the delicious raisin hiding in the middle layer of the dimensional baklava,” Hunk chimes in. “We’re in the dimensional layer above theirs. Two above? Either way it’s gonna take a damn good wormhole or some serious fork-work to get there.”  
  
“But it is him? It’s not just--I dunno, if there’s an alternate Earth, wouldn’t there be an alternate Shiro?” Lance wonders slowly, carefully voicing Keith’s skepticism so he doesn’t have to. Keith should thank him.  
  
“We’d have dimensional layers lighting up like a Christmas tree if the system picked up every almost-Shiro in space-time,” Hunk laughs with something close to smugness and it’s the first thing that had sounded like hope to Keith in months.  
  
They turn out to be two layers up in the dimensional baklava, which means another three weeks of increasingly frustrating calculations to sort out how to punch past one dimension and hit another without shattering both. It takes another week on top of that (through which Lance is barely able to hold Keith back from gnashing his teeth in Allura’s face in his impatience) to figure out how to maintain communications across the dimensional rift they are creating. Even with the careful magical maths holding it all together Allura tries twice before she agrees to let Keith go through.  
  
It had been a reckless long-shot, tumbling down this wormhole alone, chasing after the only flickery blip of maybe-Shiro the Castle had been able to pick up after weeks of scanning the infinite cosmos. Keith knows that...they all knew it when they agreed it was worth the risk to send him across space-time on the slim chance of recovering their leader. But Keith finds him.  
  
The elation doesn’t last long enough for him to step out from his hiding place in the shadows. Doubt curdles in Keith’s stomach and the skepticism feels traitorous.

When Shiro had crash landed back at the Garrison, he had been absolutely desperate to warn someone, anyone, about the coming threat. There is no urgency in the way he moves here, no apparent motivation to find his way home. For two days Keith follows him, and for two days Shiro lives a normal life.  
  
For two days, Keith wonders if Shiro just...doesn’t want to come back.

/

"I know you're watching me again."

Keith startles, eyes gone wide as he shrinks deeper into the shadows instinctively, looking around for someone else Shiro could be talking about. There’s only him--he’s caught, so he can only clench his jaw, frowning and shoulders tense as he steps out, fists balled tight.

"Shiro."

"Yep, that's me," Shiro says jovially, but there's a tight line to his shoulders clearly saying he's ready to go on the defensive the moment it becomes necessary. "Something I can do for you?"

Keith mirrors that loosely defensive posture and grinds his teeth to keep from barking out his suddenly welling frustration, to keep from letting the weeks’ worth of fear and stress that have been welling beneath his tight shoulders from bubbling over. They need him, and he’s just. Here. The questions on the tip of Keith's tongue are, "what the hell are you doing here?" and, "did you even try to come back to--us?" But something between them isn't as familiar as it once was, and that gives Keith pause, makes him doubt his instinctive defensiveness in response to Shiro asking that like he doesn't know…

"You--" he screws up his face against the pain of having to ask a different question. "Do you know me?"

Shiro’s brow furrows as he looks up, then down. "Should I?"

Keith's heart sinks and his shoulders follow suit. He never has managed to master a poker face; when he's pissed it shows in the downward curve of his mouth and the sharpness of his eyes. When he's heartbroken it shows just as surely.

"Yes," he says without accusation, "you should."

Shiro puts his helmet on the seat of the bike. His attention is occupied completely by this sullen stranger.

"Tell me," Shiro says, "what's your name?"

"K--eith Kogane," he says, Shiro’s nickname for him sticking in his throat like a shard of glass. He steps forward, ducking a little to get a different angle on Shiro's face, perhaps to look more deeply into his eyes. "We were at the Garrison together," he prompts stubbornly. "Well, not in the same division or anything since you got there before me, but still."

Shiro tries, he really does and it shows, to remember the name. He doesn't seem to realize his lips and tongue are wrapping around it silently, trying it out. He closes his eyes a moment. When nothing comes to him, he opens his eyes and frowns. He isn't afraid to meet Keith's gaze again, though he isn't happy about it either. "I'm afraid I don't understand anything you're saying." He tries it from a different angle. "What's my name?"

"Shirogane Takashi," Keith says confidently. "If your family is in earshot, anyway, the other way around when you're trying not to confuse the Western paperwork,” he holds up a pair of fingers in a v and flicks his wrist, flipping them. "You're the best exploration pilot the Garrison's ever seen."

Shiro blinks at him. Keith knows his full name, and not only that, but the fact that no one calls him Takashi except his mother -- Shiro is the name he chose for himself. The nervous way he licks his lips tells Keith all he needs to know. He’s right.

"Pilot. Like...a plane?"

Keith's eyebrows pull up and he can't help a little scoff in his disbelief. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "If by 'plane' you mean 'interplanetary spaceship,' then yes." He decides on the fly that it's probably best for his credibility to leave out the massive flying robot lion for the time being.

"You piloted the Kerberos mission. D'you know where that is?" He gestures to the sky vaguely. "Little chunk of iceberg likes to hang out at the edge of the solar system with Pluto...?" Keith leads.

Shiro opens his mouth and closes it again. Suddenly, he looks hungry for the life Keith is describing. "I...I know about Pluto. Every kid learns about the solar system when they're in school. And about moons. But I...don't know where Kerberos is, so no, I don't think I'm the pilot you think I am." He offers Keith a sad smile. "I'm starting to wish I was."

 _Yes, you are_ , Keith thinks, narrowing his eyes decisively. He knows now, he's suddenly certain having seen that mournful little smile. He folds his arms over his chest and thrusts his chin at Shiro expectantly. "Who do you think you are, then?"

Shiro laughs at that, he can't help himself. The question seems so ridiculous, but it also feels very important to both himself and Keith. "Shirogane Takashi, broke, metal worker who still lives at home and thinks about being something better someday." He bites his lip quickly after, too late to stop the last sentiment from coming out of his mouth.

Keith frowns hard, both at the innocent, matter-of-fact honesty in Shiro’s voice when he tells his life story like it’s truth, and at what Shiro's life has come to here. He's brilliant, had to be to even qualify for the pilot program, too much so for manual labor like this to be killing his spirit. What little Keith had heard through the thin walls of Shiro’s family home in the two nights spent crouched low in their back garden didn’t speak to an especially hunky-dory home life either.

"I think I may be able to help you with that," Keith says with determination. "I don't know what happened to you, but I know your potential, Shiro. 'Someday,' just came early."


	2. Cat in the Cornfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you going to do? Take me back to that Garrison you were talking about? Have me fly an 'interplanetary spaceship'?" Shiro's not trying to be bitter, but essentially everything Keith has said has felt too good to be true, like he's talking about a Shiro living a different life. A life so fantastical and about as out of reach as the stars themselves.  
>  _I'm not gonna stop until I see everything the universe has out there._

“‘Someday’ just came early.”

"What are you going to do? Take me back to that Garrison you were talking about? Have me fly an 'interplanetary spaceship'?" Shiro's not trying to be bitter, but essentially everything Keith has said has felt too good to be true, like he's talking about a Shiro living a different life. A life so  fantastical and about as out of reach as the stars themselves.

 _I'm not gonna stop until I see everything the universe has out there_. Shiro shakes his head.

"Maybe--maybe we shouldn't have this conversation here." He picks up his helmet again, looking down at it, then tossing it towards Keith.

Every survival instinct he'd grown up with is screaming at him. This is a bad idea, this is a stranger telling tall tales. It's crazy to hear them but even crazier to listen. Shiro's aching heart will have to answer to the consequences when this goes terribly wrong. He tells himself to be ready for that when he swings a leg over the seat, turning once more to look Keith in the eyes. "Coming?"

Keith catches the helmet and stares at Shiro as he comes forward to climb astride the bike. He winds his arms unselfconsciously around Shiro's waist like they belong there.

"Let's go."

The air leaves Shiro's lungs much quicker than he expects. No hesitation, no question whether it's all right. Just Keith's arms around him, the line of his body against Shiro's back. As natural as breathing, but suddenly harder to do now. He hopes the moment's pause to pull himself together isn't noticeable before he revs the engine to life and bends himself down. He's surely gone mad, but he takes off for home and lets the wind rushing past his ears drown out his doubts. Keith tucks his thighs in closer.

They've only been speeding along the dark country interstate for a couple of minutes when Keith squeezes him to get his attention.

"Wait," he calls over the whipping wind. "I want to show you something. Take the next right."

It hardly looks like a ‘right’. It's an old service road, mostly grown-over and hard to see, so Keith points over Shiro's shoulder, holding tighter with his other arm.

Shiro feels a twinge of doubt, but it tangles with something thrilling. He glances down the way Keith is pointing, keenly aware of the tighter hold on him. There's nothing out there; he's lived in this town his whole life, there are nothing but fields and rows of tall grass. Cornfields forgotten, it’s a great place for a kid to go when he wants to be forgotten. He should be pretty concerned that a complete stranger would take him out to those fields to...show him something? He chuckles to himself as he thinks 'interplanetary spaceship' again, and throws caution to the wind, veering sharply to take the turn.

Keith points directions when the sound of the corn whipping past them paired with that roaring engine becomes too loud to reasonably be heard over, guiding them deeper into the labyrinth of forgotten crops. He taps on Shiro's shoulder, signaling him to stop. Shiro brakes and cuts the engine in the literal nowhere under the night sky, still dubious with a racing heart. Keith climbs down and apparently thinks nothing of it when his hand swipes from Shiro's shoulder and down across his lower back as he dismounts.

"Listen, I brought you out here to show you this so we don't have to go through the whole song and dance of you trying to work out whether I'm crazy," he says with a frown like he has already been accused. He waves for Shiro to follow as he heads off the barely-there path between the corn and directly into the crop.

Shiro holds his hands up as if he's giving in, but the smile on his face betrays that he may have already been wondering if Keith is crazy. Truth be told, their close proximity, the not-quite-one-sided familiarity have been contagious; Shiro feels a little crazy himself for taking this chance. Crazy, but not afraid.

He follows, swallowing back any witty sort of response in favor of genuine curiosity, wading through foliage almost as tall as he, the thin light from the moon vaguely guiding their way. He keeps pace with Keith, eyes tracking his back and the rustle of the plants being moved aside as they walk.

Keith parts a few stalks and finally finds his prize. From behind him Shiro wonders what could be in the clearing of corn. A crop circle, maybe? Keith grins the jackal grin of a guy who knows he's about to win an unspoken bet as he moves out of the way for Shiro to stand beside him to see what lies in wait for them there. It's the first time Keith has really smiled in any sort of way since he emerged from the shadows this evening. Shiro quirks an eyebrow at him as he steps forward, coming to the bank of a dried up pond. Now he knows where he is; it’s easier to find in the daytime. He remembers wading here as a kid when it collected rain water. Those boyhood years feel like a lifetime away from him now. He clears his mind and peers over.

"What the--"

It's huge, gleaming and settled like some big predator waiting for something to get too close before it strikes. There are glints of silver, muted hints of red. Shiro's breath stills in his lungs. Captivated, he takes long strides along the edge of the depression trying to get a better look and wishing for daylight so he can see this thing in its glory. He's never seen anything like it and he knows there is more. His heart is racing in anticipation, expecting it to move, to rise.

"Red,"Keith says, folding his arms smugly across his chest while he watches Shiro take in the gargantuan feat of engineering at their feet, "you remember Shiro, don't you?"

The machine lifts head slowly. Shiro gasps, :: _LION::_ resonating in his chest and deeper still. The metal plates of her neck and chest and shoulders slide with only the gentlest noise of whirring machines disturbing the night's quiet and looking every bit like an ancient Sphinx. That unimaginably heavy jaw starts to open for a greeting and Keith flails, souring his proud moment as he desperately holds his hands up for her to stop. "/Quietly/! Please."

The jaw closes again and after a few pointed seconds, Keith's moody-ass lion snorts two enormous clouds of exhaust at them. Keith frowns, drops his hands and his shoulders follow.

"H-holy shhh..." Shiro backs up a little bit as the lion raises its head. Now he’s starting to believe he might be crazy. Or dreaming. He reaches up to rub his eyes while the machine's great feline head turns to him. "Is it...alive?" No, that can't be true, machines aren't sentient. "Is there someone else here with you doing that? You're talking to them, right?" Somewhere deep down, he knows better. The master of this great metal beast is standing right next to him, talking to it like a companion, a friend. And it's...happy to see him?

Shiro tries to fit all of her into his field of vision, really take her in. His chest is tight with too many things. Disbelief, wonder, a craving for more, hope. Only when he realizes he won't get his fill or any answers just by staring like a child, does he turn to Keith, his jaw slack and eyes wide. He aches down to his bones to never wake up from this.

"Sort of? She's sort of alive, I mean, no one's in there." He waves that thought off for the apparent foolishness it is. "The Lions were built by a people light years ahead of what we've managed yet. As far as I can tell it's top-notch engineering," Keith begins ticking his list off on his fingers, "some advanced artificial intelligence, and almost certainly some alien witchcraft that makes her do what she does. That, and a kick-ass pilot as stubborn as she is," he says, the facade of self-deprecation not doing much to mask the pride beneath.

"And you are stubborn," Shiro agrees. It's the only thing that makes sense. "After all, you got me here." He flashes Keith a crooked smile. "I'm trying not to get hung up on alien witchcraft but since I feel like she's watching me right now, I could be persuaded. Maybe."

Keith blushes and stops a pout before it can begin, hunching his shoulders defensively against the rising color.

Instead, he smiles back and puts a hand on his hip, cocking it rakishly.

"You took me for a ride. Care to let me repay the favor?" He thumbs toward the lion.

Shiro's jaw drops again, and he practically jumps at the chance before common sense kicks in. He tries to ignore how much he wants to for safety's sake. He holds up his hands. "I would love to. But I think she'd get a lot of unwanted attention if you try taking her for a spin around the block. Maybe tomorrow?" He knows he sounds hopeful, his hand reaching out as if to touch her. He realizes that needing tomorrow to make it feel more real might be too forward and withdraws. But what if all this vanishes when he wakes up?

Light seems to reflect in a quick arc across Red's eye and Keith nods. So slowly it's practically glacial the massive animal shifts forward enough to put her nose, the tip nearly twice as tall as Shiro's full height, against his outstretched palm.

"Tomorrow," Keith says decisively, like Shiro's suggestion had been a promise. "And don't you worry about your fragile back-country streets. Our trajectory will be a little more vertical than you might expect, so the neighbors shouldn't have anything to faint over and you won't have any excuse to say no."

Shiro almost has to ask Keith to repeat himself, the words coming from somewhere far away. His attention is drawn so abruptly to the metal under his palm. It’s not moving, but it’s pulsing, it’s alive, and he can feel it thrumming deep within him, just beat or two off tandem with his heart. It’s too incredible to be real, too visceral not to be. :: _I’ll find you again._ ::

His surroundings come back into focus almost too sharply, and Keith’s words tumble into his awareness quickly after. He pulls his hand away from the beast-machine’s snout, and he would swear his skin still tingles. “I...guess not.” He slowly looks over his shoulder at Keith, a realization dawning on him. “You don’t...intend to bring me back, do you?”

"Not really," Keith shrugs. "But I don't have devious plans to keep you from coming back either. For visits," he stresses, poking an accusing finger into Shiro's chest. "We need you out there." He relaxes. "But once you're back at the helm of the black lion, you won't need to be bumming rides off me if you wanna vacation here at the universe's worst beach." His expression as he looks down into the dry crater where the pond used to be makes it clear that he has yet to see a reason Shiro would want to come back here of all places.

Keith’s finger in his chest feels like a punch for all that the weight of what he’s saying hits Shiro. He glances back to Red, realizing he’s being told he has one of these for himself. :: _The heart._ :: His breath comes up short and he takes another step back.

Keith pauses thoughtfully. "Though there is a wormhole situation involved in getting here, so. Fair warning."

“Just...just hold on a second, okay?” His brow furrows and he sweeps his arm around to indicate the general area. He pivots ever so slightly because he doesn’t think he can look at the lion, feel the freedom she offers, in his peripheral. It’s already like glass in his lungs. “Do you realize that the ‘universe’s worst beach’ is my home? You’re standing here talking to me about how you need me and wormholes and interplanetary spaceships. That’s stuff kids see on TV and read in comic books, that’s not real life. You want me to just up and leave my job and my family like I’m never coming back. You say you know me, but if that’s true, then how can you just expect me to leave everything behind?”

Keith narrows his eyes at the challenge in Shiro's voice.

"Because I know you.”


	3. I Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to know you,” Shiro blurts out, and it’s more desperate than he ever intended to sound. “I want to know about the world out there and who’s waiting for me and to be more than. This. But this is all I know. I want to be the Shirogane Takashi you know: the hero, the best exploration pilot. What if you take me with you, and I’m not him? What then? What if even after I leave here, we still can’t make--”

“Because I know you. I know that you're too damn good for metal-work," Keith spits it out like the idea leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "You're too big for whatever this 'burg can offer you, Shiro. Because I know you," he repeats, crowding into Shiro's space so he has to take another step back, "I know that somewhere in there you know me too, and you won't leave me, or the rest of our ragtag little team, hanging. I know that when lives are on the line you're the first to step up and be a hero, and trust me, whether you remember or not they are on the line. A whole galaxy's worth of trouble's brewing out there and we're the crew that's gonna stop it."

He pauses, swallows. His voice always gets hoarse when he talks this much.

"Because I know who you are, I know that there are bound to be people here you care about, people you're loyal to. And that's why I wouldn't stop you coming back."

“I want to know _you_ ,” Shiro blurts out, and it’s more desperate than he ever intended to sound. “I want to know about the world out there and who’s waiting for me and to be more than. This. But this is all I know. I want to be the Shirogane Takashi you know: the hero, the best exploration pilot. What if you take me with you, and I’m not him? What then? What if even after I leave here, we still can’t make--” He cuts himself off, flinching as a sharp throb knocks his temple blurring his vision like sun spots. He puts a hand to his forehead and forces himself to take a deep breath. He’s not accomplishing anything by getting this worked up. “I’m sorry.”

Keith startles at Shiro's sudden distress and lurches forward, braces the taller man with a palm on his chest. A quiet, private part of Keith had reveled to hear that Shiro wants to know him, specifically him, on top of the adventure and mystery and heroism he has been promising, but before he has a second to acknowledge it Shiro seems to be spiraling and worse, he looks like he hurts. Keith doesn't even think of how intimate his touch might seem to a Shiro who doesn't know him when in his worry his other hand finds Shiro's jaw to tilt his face for a better look.

"Shiro? Shit, okay, you're okay," he tries, slightly stilted. He never had much of a role model for how best to give comfort and is once again flying on blind instinct with it. "Just don't let go of that thought--Red!" he tucks himself under Shiro's arm to support him as the lion's metal jaw opens. He lowers Shiro to sit on the step made by her chin settling onto the ground.

"What were you going to say, Shiro. What if we can't make...?" he leads. It seems like he’s stumbled accidentally into a--well, if not an actual memory of Voltron, at least a now ingrained worry about Voltron. Frightening as it is to see him kicked back out of it, this is Keith's first solid proof that this Shiro might have access to that life.

Red’s movements feel like they’re part of Shiro’s, the sound of her plates shifting and inner parts whirring are like noises in his bloodstream, a distant connection that’s a part of him but beyond him. He writes it off as being too sensitive to the moment, looking for some sort of comfort to battle the way his head spins. He’s glad for both her solid presence and the grounding warmth of flesh and strength to be found against Keith’s body. What the hell is wrong with him?

Shiro sits, his back arched forward protectively and once more he’s braced for something to happen. You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s not real, :: _The stars are too far away._ :: Once more Keith’s voice comes to him from the too-long tunnel between reality and his brain; it’s frustrating and the fear that had been missing from the beginning of their encounter this evening is starting to creep in around the edges. What had he been trying to say? What if… “We can’t...make…” Again, he hisses, that white flash coming across his vision like a camera flash at point blank range. “I don’t know.” His voice is strained, through clenched teeth.

Keith is more worried than disappointed when his frown turns more sharply downward. He brings a hand up to rest on the back of Shiro's neck, instinctively seeking out any place where he can touch Shiro skin to skin, even if it's only his fingertips poking out of the holes in his gloves against the other man's shoulder. Something is blocking him from getting too close to the memories of his proper life, and Voltron has become an obvious trigger.

Keith hates that he has to do this, but he rationalizes that it's better to find out if hearing the word has the same effect now, rip the band-aid off so to speak, than to go through this again later, if they can help it.

"Shiro, I don't know what's going to happen when I say the word I think you're looking for, but I'm right here with you, okay?" Keith pauses, gaze fixed firmly on what he can see of Shiro's face. He keeps his hands on Shiro.

Shiro braces himself, knowing this for the test it is. Keith looks like it's the last thing he wants to do, but hell if the hand on the back of his neck doesn't make Shiro want to try. He braces his other hand on Keith's knee, expecting the worst but trusting he won't fall with Keith so close.

"Our lions? They form Voltron."

Voltron

The pain in his temple fades back, but along with it comes the feeling of a blanket over his senses. He grasps for the meaning of familiarity Keith surely expects from it, but it's like reaching into a fog. Intangible, moving, drifting away from him. Hearing it conjures...nothing. He'd been worried it would be something terrible but it's empty.

"I don't know what that is."

Keith is torn between relief that he didn't hurt Shiro again and heart-sinking disappointment that the biggest -- literally biggest -- thing in their lives is invisible in Shiro's recollection. After a frozen moment he pulls Shiro until he can take the larger man's weight against his shoulder and leans their heads together, deciding to embrace the relief.  

"That's alright. No sense expecting it all to come back at once, right?"

"I...guess."

Shiro wants to ask, but his throat is dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. Having nothing happen leaves him dangling on a precipice of returning doubt. Moments ago, he'd been expecting the painful growth of wings before a jump, ready to take to the skies and fly but finding his feet securely rooted. Already he feels like he's failed. :: _You weren't meant to leave the ground._ ::

"I'm sorry," he says again. He doesn't realize he's gripping Keith's knee tight enough to leave marks behind, the hand at his temple clenched in his hair.

"Quit apologizing, it's not your fault." Keith winces at his own insistence and tries again, softer and stilted, his hesitation obviously directed inward. What would he find comforting? Would Shiro be consoled by the same things? He can only try, he supposes.

"Seriously, Shiro," he puts his hand over Shiro's on his thigh and squeezes, not to stop him but to reassure him that it's alright. "We're going to figure this out. And tomorrow we're going for a ride in Red, right? Even if that doesn't jog anything, if you're into the adrenaline rush of riding that bike of yours? You'll love it."

Shiro’s gaze starts at the hand over his, heat tingling under his skin at the touch, then slowly lifts to Keith’s face. When he does, he is smiling ever so slightly, an upturn at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are still sad, deep and sinking with too much on his mind, but it’s clear the idea reaches him, it lifts some of the burden. He’s still positively aching to feel what it’s like to ride in the great cat beneath him.

“I can’t wait.” Shiro means it, too. He’s never looked forward to something as much as he does this in a very long time. “Thanks, Keith. Guess this is probably as weird a night for you as it is for me.”

"Weird is kind of the new normal," Keith half-laughs. "You look like you could use some rest." He lifts his hand from Shiro's knuckles and sweeps his forelock aside. His skin is clammy, swelteringly hot under his fingertips, and Keith's worry kicks up a notch. "Let's get you home."

"Yeah." Shiro leans perhaps a bit more than he means to against Red as he levers himself to his feet. He doesn't realize he's reaching out for Keith until the first unsteady step has him braced against Keith's shoulder. He turns around and salutes the Lion with a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Red."

Keith takes Shiros weight gladly, pulling an arm up and across his shoulders. Red closes her mouth and somehow even her perfect stillness looks like a proud acknowledging nod.

"Shields up, buddy," Keith says over his shoulder as he guides Shiro back into the corn, and a low crimson glow burns past them, illuminating the path back to the bike before burning off and leaving the job of lighting the night to the moon and the milky way high above.


	4. Reaching for the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I knew it. I knew you were still you." Keith suddenly imagines a little boy reaching up to the distant sky and he aches to know that Shiro had lived a whole life dreaming of the stars with such meager hope of getting there. _This_ is why Shiro had been so quick to trust him, an apparent stranger. Hope.

Keith leans Shiro up against the bike and holds his hand out expectantly for the keys. "Mind if I drive?"

Shiro narrows his eyes a little, hand already in his pocket to fish out the keys. In just the span of an hour or so, he's shown Keith more trust than people who have known him most of his life. It's strange, but he doesn't feel anything wrong with one more thing.

"Here." He holds out the keys to Keith. "But you still wear the helmet, and if you crash her, I'll be very upset." The smile on his face delivers the joke.

"I'll be careful with you both, promise." The hand not bracing Shiro's waist raises in an oath before he takes the keys, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth probably betrays the fact that he wants very much to tease Shiro with high speeds and tight turns. Someday, Keith promises himself smugly, when he's feeling better.

"Saddle up." He gets Shiro settled before sliding in front, only a little awkwardly as he wriggles between the handlebars and Shiro's chest.

Shiro's smile widens, warmth trying to chase away the unsettled remnants of his headache. He shifts to make as much room as he can, staring at Keith’s back with unnoticed indecision screwing up his features. He can’t very well ride back with his hands in his lap. He takes a deep breath, then slides his arms around Keith's chest. He's careful not to squeeze too tight, barely inclined to hold on at all, but as soon as he realizes how solid Keith is, Shiro thinks once can’t really hurt and sags against his back. His cheek finds the sharp hollow at Keith's shoulder blade and his nose tucks into the fall of messy hair. He breathes in and closes his eyes. "Take this back out to the main road, take a left at Highway Two. I'll direct you from there."

Keith's breath freezes in his lungs for a moment as Shiro winds around him, presses in close like even if his mind hasn't yet recovered the details there's something in his body that knows they were always meant to collide, not just fall into orbit near one another. It's so good, Keith thinks. It's like home. He turns the key, delights in the roar of the engine again, and as he revs it to life he sits a little straighter so the taller man doesn't have to hunch too much to rest comfortably.

He decides not to mention that he already knows exactly how to get to Shiro's place, no directions necessary, though if the other man falls asleep on his back Keith supposes he'll have to fess up once they arrive.

He's careful through the crop, dodging bumps in the rows and doing his best to veer away from the leaves reaching out to whip their faces and shoulders. Once he reaches the main road he opens her up a little, having decided it best to get Shiro back sooner rather than later.

Shiro very nearly does doze against Keith’s back, as impossible as it might seem, but he feels ragged, raw. More than he can blame on work, his exhaustion has surely stemmed from the unusual and barely believable direction this night has gone. He thinks perhaps if a dream gets him home to his bed, he’ll wake up the next morning to the smell of cheap coffee and the sound of mindless television. Things that are familiar to him and so prominent as to bully out the whispers of another life Keith put in the back of his head. It’s all right, if this is a dream, it will be remembered with the others. He catches himself in time to direct Keith to his house. He’s a lot more awake now as habit kicks in at the end of his street.

Shiro shifts. “Cut it here, we’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Keith glances back curiously, but does as he's told and cuts the engine. He had seen Shiro performing this strange little ritual each night when he came home from work and wondered.

"Got a cranky neighbor or something?" He's half-tempted to rev the engine and burn rubber down the street just to spite them, but instead he dutifully holds the bike as Shiro dismounts.

“Not exactly.” He reaches over to take the handlebars from Keith, starting to walk down the side of the road. “My mom’s asleep. She works during the day, so I try not to wake her up when I get home.” His shrug is both sheepish and apologetic talking about living with his mom.

He starts them up the driveway to a single story house, that isn’t entirely in disrepair, but it could be in better shape. At the very least, the grass is tended and things patched where they need to be. Shiro tucks the bike into the carport and uses his keys to let them in, holding a finger to his lips to signal Keith to stay quiet. It’s not entirely necessary after already explaining his mother should be asleep, but he feels the extra precaution is worthwhile. Habit. They sneak through the kitchen and into the hallway, Shiro quietly leading them past a room where the door stands cracked open, loud late-night tv laugh track filling the hallway like ghosts. He reaches back blindly for Keith’s sleeve and tugs him into the next room, quickly shutting the door.

Keith isn't surprised to hear that Shiro goes out of his way is for his mother; he always was the type to notice the little things and adjust to make sure the people he cared about were comfortable. What does surprise him is Shiro's urgent grip pulling him those final few feet.

Maybe his mother isn't the only one Shiro is protecting. Keith's eyes narrow as he recalls the shouting he had heard from the back garden the night before, but he keeps his suspicions to himself and instead looks curiously around the room.

Safely tucked away now, some of the tension from Shiro’s shoulders eases, and once more the sheepish expression comes out. He lowers himself to the edge of the modest twin bed pushed up against the farthest wall to start taking off his boots. Now that another person is in here with him, it makes him keenly aware of how small it actually is. It’s never really bothered him before now, and he wonders if it’s because he just came from the wide open fields and their secret guest.

Everything about the four walls surrounding them betrays a spectacular love of the sky. They are covered with crinkled, well-loved old posters of starscapes and planetary alignments. Those in particular just barely brush the surface of what Keith has seen since he trained at the Garrison, Shiro clearly only aware of the limits of the solar system he’s currently residing. A table stands as a small desk with a mismatched chair pushed in, and next to that is a bookshelf full of texts ranging from mathematical reference to science fiction novels to picture books of space. It’s no wonder he dubiously entertains the idea of following Keith into the sky; a part of him is already trying to get there. Keith runs his fingers along the spines of the well-loved books, lingering on the one that looks the most worn, the title of it illegible for all the time it’s been opened and read.

Shiro watches him, sees where he pauses, and he chuckles softly. “‘There's all sorts of fuel, wind and wishes and chocolate cake and collard greens and water and brawn, but you're wanting the kind that burns in an engine. That kind of gas is nothing more than the past stored up and fermented and kept down in the cellar of the earth till it's wanted.’” There’s a heavy feel to it, the words rolled over in his mind so many times to have become a mantra. The prayer of someone who has memories in a cellar he hasn’t found yet. Memories of stars that feel like dreams, both intangible and unreachable as far as his life has shown him.

Keith knows better.

He can feel Shiro's nervous eyes on him as he slowly turns to take it all in. It takes him a long time to complete his circuit, and when he finally turns to look at the room's owner again he is grinning like he just won something.

"I knew it. I knew you were still you." Keith suddenly imagines a little boy reaching up to the distant sky and he aches to know that Shiro had lived a whole life dreaming of the stars with such meager hope of getting there. _This_ is why Shiro had been so quick to trust him, an apparent stranger. Hope.

Well, that would all change tomorrow.

“I’m glad someone did,” Shiro replies with a wry smile, setting his boots at the foot of the bed. He still doesn’t know what to make of someone who follows him for at least a couple of days and seems to know more about Shiro than Shiro does. “You want me to grab you something from the kitchen? I’m going to have to grab some blankets anyway.”

Keith stows his over-eager smile and rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

"Uh, water? And I could help, if you want." He never was one to just take what he couldn't earn, even a pile of blankets--

Keith freezes. In the dark he hadn't seen Shiro's hands, and through his jacket he hadn't felt the difference as they rode. He just wasn't looking for this thing, this enormous thing to be different. He had seen the scar across Shiro's nose and just assumed that the rest of his body would be the body he had known too, but as Shiro shoves his boots under the bed Keith finally opens his eyes and sees.

The room is so small it only takes a step before Keith is right in front of Shiro and dropping to his knees, yanking the other man's arm by the cuff to look, mesmerized at his hand. Keith's fingertips hover just above the skin, reverent.

"Really, it's all right, I can--" There's a nervous lilt to Shiro's voice before he cuts off completely, startled by how suddenly Keith is right in his personal space again, down on the floor and taking hold. It takes a remarkable show of willpower not to jerk his hand back as if he's done something wrong, and he tries to read what he's seeing on Keith's face. It twists from shock to disbelief to outright wonder, and he can't fathom what he's done or what Keith is looking for.

There are scars across the back of his hand, some of them scattered here and there going up his forearm, but his darker skin is warm. Shiro tenses under Keith’s hand, but he holds his breath, waiting to see if Keith will touch him, wondering why his arm is so important. He licks his lips, mouth going dry. Words are harder to get out than he intends.

“Wh-what is it?”

Keith touches the inside of Shiro's wrist and draws his fingers over Shiro's palm so gently it's like he's trying to touch a mirage without disturbing it. When it doesn't vanish or warp back before his eyes to the intricate machinery he knew, Keith chokes and grabs Shiro's hand more firmly.

"Your arm,” he says, awed. “You still have your arm."


	5. You Hero This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith smiles and leans into Shiro's palm, covering it with his own to keep it there as he rocks forward an inch to press their foreheads together.  
> "I missed you, Shiro."

Keith never did mind Shiro's Galra tech. In fact, the way he used it so naturally, his competence in battle with his new weapon, it made Keith burn hot with shameful exhilaration. Shameful because Keith knew that while he still found Shiro as beautiful and whole as ever, Shiro hadn’t felt the same way. He never should have had to hurt like that, and this body, somehow, hasn’t.

Shiro jumps without meaning to, once more clamping down on that pressing urge to withdraw. Confusion is a far more prevailing emotion currently, and he tries to imagine himself without an arm. It’s not a very pleasant prospect, and something about it makes him hurt down to his bones. He would also be lying if he says it doesn’t scare him a little too.

“Well, yeah,” he laughs nervously, “Would be kind of hard to drive the bike without it.” 

A thrilling little tingle lingers at the base of his spine, brought on by Keith’s careful caresses. They almost make him feel fragile, or maybe cherished? Either way, it’s not something he’s used to, and he feels like he should have a more appropriate response than to just sit still and watch. With some effort, he curls his fingers around Keith’s and squeezes, taking a gamble that it’s something Keith will be all right with based on how freely he’s touched Shiro this entire evening.

"Where I'm from or...or when I'm from, or whatever," he floats a hand over Shiro's forearm, pushing up his sleeve as he goes to follow the veins, "you don't. Well, you do, and it's incredible, it's beautiful, but it's not like this. It's not flesh and bone. This...this is--"

Allura would be suspicious. Hell, Keith is the most inherently suspicious among them, most days, but he knows. There’s some violet-black touchstone dense as a star in him that burns with the knowing, and there are happy tears in his eyes when he looks up into Shiro's face, and his stubborn smile breaks on a breath to show his teeth. 

"This is amazing."

“If you--” Shiro finds his breath catching in his lungs, coming out in a stuttered exhale. Once he locks onto Keith’s wet eyes, he loses himself in the contagious joy spilling over. His heart races, his chest tight with the feeling he’s done something good at last, he’s made Keith’s efforts to be here and find him worth it. It had cost him nothing to do, this arm Keith so clearly cherishes has been there his entire life. He did nothing special to keep it -- other than his safety classes at work anyway -- but it seemed to mean so much. He’s excited about it, feeling like a little kid in this moment, and willing to embrace it. “If you say so, Keith. I mean, it’s just me.” 

He follows the compulsion and excitement, barely acknowledging the fear at the back of his mind he might be overstepping his boundaries. He pulls away from Keith’s hold, but not because he doesn’t want the contact. He presses his lips together in a line, braced for the worst, but needing to try. Shiro lifts his hand and cups Keith’s jaw, swiping his thumb across a wet trail making its way down his cheek.

Keith's hand slides to Shiro's knee as the hand he was worshipping pulls away, and he doesn't even have time to be self-conscious about his blatant invasion of Shiro's space before the contact is back and this time Shiro is touching him. 

Keith smiles and leans into Shiro's palm, covering it with his own to keep it there as he rocks forward an inch to press their foreheads together. 

"I missed you, Shiro."

The tightness in Shiro’s chest makes his breath short, his eyes fall closed. The frantic flutter of his heart could easily be mistaken for fear, but he’s not afraid. He doesn’t want to pull back, no matter how much it goes against everything he has been taught. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t understand, but this feels right.  _ Rightrightright _ slams against his ribs to the cadence of his pulse. It’s perfect to breathe his breath, to be missed, to be wanted. 

“Kit,” he whispers before he can stop himself. Just the single word shakes him to the core. His lips around the word bring a twinge of pain to his temple, but he fights it, letting everything hang in the balance. He doesn’t know where it came from, he doesn’t know what it will do. Keith will surely let him know when he goes too far, but he hopes that line doesn’t exist. Just once, please.

Keith nods because  _ yes, yes Shiro, it's me, it's your Kit _ . He feels the twitch in Shiro's body as that name surfaces on his lips — probably before it had been a conscious thought —  but the sweet is overtaking the bitter right now because something of them has made it through the barrier in Shiro's mind and that can only be good.

His eyes open with a flutter and for a moment he’s back in the Garrison courtyard, in the hallways, scowling every time the brass’s best and brightest was trotted out to give the cadets a pep talk. For a moment he’s stepping unsteadily out of the simulator for the first time and there’s a steadying hand on his tense shoulder. For a moment Shiro’s all dark hair and dark eyes and he’s smiling at Keith like they could be  _ friends. _

For a moment, Keith remembers feeling caught as he crouched behind the observatory building.   
  
_ “Got a friend under there?” _ __  
__  
_ “Nothing,” Kaith had snapped nonsensically, defensive and blushing already as he scrambled to his feet. Shirogane just smiled at him, his hands folded behind his back as he leaned over to peek between the slats at the glowing orange eyes in the dark.  _ __  
__  
_ “I’ve seen you around, cadet. ‘Seen your sim scores too.” He had straightened up without a crease in his uniform, his mouth pressed into an impressed line as he looked Keith over appraisingly. “You’ve got that lone wolf prodigy thing going for ya, huh?” _ __  
__  
_ Keith just scowled. _ __  
__  
_ “No--more like a standoffish cat. And a softie for kittens, to boot.” Was the Garrison’s star pupil seriously  _ teasing _ him?  _ __  
__  
_ “Alright, Kitty Keith,” Shirogane had sighed, tugging up the cuffs of his pants to crouch down. “Let’s get this little one out of there.” _ __  
__  
_ “Ki-- _ excuse  _ me?”  _ __  
_  
_ __ “Mnemonics,” Shiro shrugged innocently, clicking his tongue. “Helps me keep track of the cadets who look like they might give me a run for my money. Come on, Kit, we’ve got a rescue operation underway.”

"See?" Keith says, soft and certain, "You know me."

“I know you,” Shiro whispers. It’s impossible, but he knows it’s true. Just like he knows he belongs in the sky, he should be somewhere far away from here, no matter the chains holding him down. Another twinge; he doesn’t care. This is the first thing that has shown up in his life that has really been his, and he’s not letting it go. He just..wishes he could remember how or why. Keith deserves that much, and he doesn’t have it. All he has are hunches and feelings he can’t explain, but for now they seem to be enough.

"Do you--" Keith hesitates, not quite sure how to ask, if he should ask. "Do you--" his gaze drops to Shiro's mouth betraying his unspoken question, and a blush flares across his nose like it's trying to rival the red of his jacket. "It's okay if you don't."

"I want to." And Shiro means it with every fiber of his being. His eyes open now too, seeing the heat in Keith's face; it makes him warm. hungry why does it feel like he's been starving. "Can I?"

Keith licks his lips and the corner of his mouth threatens to tug up into a smile, eyes flashing.

He's already out of breath when he says, desperately now, "Hell yes."

Shiro doesn't wait for Keith to change his mind or find himself backing down. His thumb presses in a little against Keith’s slim jaw. His lips find -- no, they crash -- into Keith's, a heated kiss that he doesn't know how to give just yet, but he needs to try. He needs to know if it still feels right. And it does. He ignores everything else and makes Keith his only focus. He doesn't care if it'll hurt.

Keith's breath catches as their mouths meet for the first time in weeks--the first time ever for Shiro, he supposes. One hand finds the back of Shiro's neck and the other digs into his sleeve at his shoulder, yanking him closer in an obvious, yes. His brow furrows with the intensity of the kiss as he pours weeks of missing into it. It feels greedy, consuming--but it has always evened out between them. The giving and the taking balances in an infinite feedback loop of hands and desperate lips seeking one another out.

Shiro could drown so quickly like this, and he's not sure he minds. Swept under the tide of need and the high of want, he grasps at Keith to keep him close. It's good to have the eager weight on the back of his neck, and it's clear the desperation exists within both of them. Keith to get back what he once had and Shiro to acquaint himself with what's supposed to be his. Just this once, he lets himself be selfish. He doesn't know what the morning will bring, so he'll devour this moment, devour this man.

Keith surges up into the taste of Shiro, of them together. He breathes in raggedly between kisses and he can't help it, his knees are tucking themselves along Shiro's hips and he's settling himself into the older man's lap for no ulterior reason beyond the certainty that he did not come across galaxies only to maintain a proper six inches of space between their heaving chests.

Shiro fumbles. It doesn't bother him to have the extra weight on his thighs, it feels like it's holding him together. His hands find Keith's hips, learning their shape. He groans, a stuttered, "Oh god" shaping itself against Keith's mouth before he's back for more. Surely, he must be delirious, this perfect stranger feels like home.

Keith gasps at Shiro's exhalation and, overwhelmed, pulls back to catch his breath. They're of a height with Keith seated in his lap, but the red paladin manages to look at Shiro through his lashes all the same. 

"Thank god," he rasps, throat tight with emotion. He hadn't allowed himself to actually think the words, but the fear that without their history Shiro wouldn't want him had coiled low in his belly like a snake for days while he had been watching Shiro from the weeds.

Shiro's laugh is nervous at best, but there's a feel of joy to it. Something about that kiss, the way Keith sits so naturally in his space, is exhilarating, fresh air in his lungs. "I don't know what I'm doing," he rambles out. "I'm sorry." Maybe he's actually doing it right anyway? He can't help the way his skin heats up when Keith looks at him like that.

"Don't be," Keith insists, brushing his fingers through Shiro's bangs mostly as an excuse to touch his brow, his temple. "You're perfect."

Shiro hesitates only a moment, watching Keith's face, gaze flickering over to where his fingers will go. His head is throbbing, but he wants to think that some of it is the rush of all of this, the desire and need and everything else Keith inspires just by sharing the same air as Shiro does. He still acts seconds later, his arms coming around Keith's middle in a crushing hug, strong fingers dipping into the hollows of his ribs, arms safe and tight like a vise. He tucks his face into the side of Keith's throat and breathes in, wanting to know his skin, leather and starshine becoming quick-learned flavors in the back of his throat.

Keith just holds him for a long time, and lets himself be held. This is important. 

It had taken him months with Shiro to learn that he didn't have to defend his every thought so fiercely; months of curious, worried eyes coaxing truths both ludicrously small and infinitely deep out of their instinctual hiding places and teaching him that trusting Shiro is not a thing he'll ever have to regret. 

He hasn't forgotten, but even with all of their practice Keith still has to clench his jaw hard before it will relax to let something out. It still doesn't quite come and he swallows, tries again. 

"I--I was scared I'd never get to touch you again. That I'd never get to feel you touching me."

Shiro doesn't know how to answer that. Deep down, he wants to echo the sentiment, but for him it's because he has never been allowed to bring anything close, make it his. Parts of him he can't control, conditioned or otherwise, are fighting this every step of the way. He's not supposed to have this, none of this is meant for him, everything he might ever want to touch is kept just out of reach. And it hurts when he crosses the line. 

"Don't be scared," Shiro murmurs, even though his pulse is racing. "You're here now. You found me." 

There's a weight to that. Like finding Shiro means more than just stumbling onto this place, this planet and happening to find a Takashi Shirogane who maybe might be this incredible person. Keith looked for him, sought him out. Knows him. The fear that he is going to fall short of everything will dog his every step, but it’s worth the feelings that come with it.

"That's my Shiro," Keith chuckles, breathy in the wake of his emotion. "You get lost and stuck with some weird amnesia and somehow you're still the one doing the reassuring and making it all okay." Keith tucks his face into Shiro's throat and smiles his affection into a kiss laid there. "Don't you know I'm supposed to be your hero this time?"

Shiro dares to move a hand, sliding his fingers deep into Keith’s hair, unwilling to let him move, wanting to feel his lips over his heartbeat until morning comes. He can just imagine how that smile looks as it’s pressed to his skin. Across from him, all those beautiful old pictures of starry skies and things beyond his reach suddenly seem so close. He thinks of Red and the promise of being something else, better. 

“You are my hero,” he whispers. “You don’t even know what you’ve done.” 

"Can we..." Keith asks, already pushing Shiro onto his back to lie down as he shyly ignores the inferno of emotion threatening to engulf him with Shiro's praise. He spreads his hands out over that familiar chest and just looks at him for a long time, basking in how right it feels to have this closeness again. 

He nudges up along the angle of Shiro's hip as he follows him down and settles into the crook of his shoulder. There's a part of him that wants to follow the instinct that sparks there, but just holding him seems so important, so comforting.

In spite of how innocent the movements are, practically ritualistic for the way Keith lays him back and looks at him, Shiro finds himself short of breath. There’s almost a panic in his heart that he is going to know this for the space of a heartbeat and never have it again. He trusts the insistent hands as he shifts to lay his head on the pillow. His hands linger close to Keith’s body, ready to snatch him back if he tries to slip into thin air. Keith joins him on the tiny mattress, tucking himself into all the right spaces, Shiro’s hip finding the curve of Keith’s thigh hitched slightly up on his own, Shiro’s hand perfectly aligned at Keith’s tailbone. He shivers out an exhale of the breath he’d been holding, covering Keith’s hand on his chest and turning his head so he can press his nose to the softness of his hair. He’s mesmerized, frozen in this moment and unwilling to leave it. 

“Please stay,” he whispers, even though there is so much evidence Keith already has that intention. It’s an invitation and a plea all in one, vulnerable in the dim light of his room, but maybe he can hide the raw feel of it under the shadows, in the warmth of Keith’s body next to his. He can’t remember feeling more like a person than right this minute. A person someone wants to be this close to.

"You're right here, where else am I gonna go?" Keith asks with an admittedly goofy smile hidden beneath Shiro's jaw, because the very idea of going anywhere without him is patently absurd. 

He had heard the edge of desperation in Shiro's voice though, and as he settles again he lifts that noble jaw with a nudge of his nose to make sure Shiro's listening. 

"I won't leave you, Shiro."

Shiro closes his eyes, and he holds tight. He falls asleep wanting to believe.


	6. Let Me See You Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think...there’s a big red lion who’s expecting us,” he says against a faint ache. “We probably shouldn’t keep her waiting.”
> 
> Keith's smile turns a little more jovial at that and he rolls his eyes at his lion's expense. "It's like you know her or something," he drawls, simultaneously making it clear with a put-upon heave of his shoulders just what a handful she can be and reinforcing for Shiro that Keith does truly believe that somewhere in there, he does know more about her, about all of the Voltron Lions, than he thinks.
> 
> “Maybe I do,” Shiro murmurs from inside his helmet as he tucks it onto his head.

He wakes up with a start, disoriented by the warmth against his chest. Shiro is curled tightly around a person, that person holding onto him just as securely, hands clenched in the front of his shirt. He realizes he didn’t even change out of his work clothes from the night before. Shiro dares to open his eyes, expecting to see nothing despite concrete evidence to the contrary. A smile lights up his face when he sees Keith nuzzled into his pillow, snoring softly. It wasn’t a dream, he wasn’t crazy. Okay, maybe if he’s thinking about taking a test drive in a giant red lion ship, he may be a little crazy. He’s also excited, like a little kid. 

He brushes a light kiss across Keith’s forehead and carefully moves to extract himself from his embrace. He doesn’t want to let go, but Shiro knows he’s going to have to leave the room, sooner rather than later. He’s already thinking about how he’s going to sneak breakfast back for Keith.

Keith slept better that night slightly wedged against the wall in Shiro's too-narrow bed than he had in months. His body begs him to stay sleeping and catch up on the rest it has been missing when movement threatens to wake him, but his mind is eager to wake up and catch up on something else; the time with Shiro lost. He winds up in a bizarre little limbo between consciousness and dreaming all his own, only managing to reach out and grab Shiro's hand at the last second, so reluctant even in sleep to be separated again.

Shiro pauses, standing next to his bed, looking down at Keith and where their hands are joined. He remembers what slipped out of him the night before, and he bows his head. He presses his lips to Keith’s knuckles, warm skin and leather. “Rise and shine, Kit. I’m gonna get us some breakfast. Can’t fly on an empty stomach.” It should sound strange, but it feels perfect off his tongue. He squeezes Keith’s hand and carefully winds free of the grip to head out into the main room, where the TV is already on and grating against his senses after the quiet warmth of his room.

Keith isn't quite conscious enough to catch the words, but he knows that voice, the rumble of it calling to him. The kiss pressed to his knuckles finally wakes him and he smiles, eyes opening just in time to see broad shoulders filling the doorway. 

He stretches, rolls over into the warm space Shiro left in the mattress, and breathes in the smell of him. For all the heroics, all the adrenaline-fueled battles and near misses, they deserve easy moments like these, he thinks.

Shiro doesn’t know why he expected the moment to last beyond the safety of his room. When he steps in to find his mother in her chair, he still has the easy smile on his face. He comes up to her peripheral and leans in, kissing her cheek to greet her good morning as he always does--

Stars flash across his vision and he staggers back, hand coming up to his cheek. 

“Where is it, Takashi?” Her shaking hand is still raised as if she’ll strike again if she doesn’t like his answer.

“Wh-what? Where is what?”

His mother bolts up from her chair and he takes a step back, holding his arms stubbornly at his sides. Raising them, even in defense, will only stoke the fire.

“It’s Thursday, Takashi. Don’t you owe me something from last night?” Her voice is louder than it needs to be, desperate and shrill.

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he moves to feel around in his back pocket. Amazingly, the cash folded up and tucked in is still there, and he counts what few blessings he has. He had gotten so caught up in Keith and interplanetary spaceships he’d completely forgotten to leave that week’s pay on the kitchen table, as he did every week. She expects it; he should have remembered. 

“Don’t worry, it’s right--”

He’s cut off again, and he does everything in his power not to wince at the way her voice fills their tiny home, presses in on him from all sides and surely drifts down the hallway. He knows this spiel, though he’s been so careful not to hear it for months now. He supposes he has been due for a reprise. He fights hard to maintain his breathing, keep his hands where they belong, drowning out words with the memory of a beautiful metal beast and the promise she and her pilot hold for him. Everything hurts, teeth holding his tongue still.

Keith is up like a shot at the sound of skin on skin, shaking off the last dregs of sleep as he hurtles out the door, fists already flexing against leather. 

_'Takashi.'_

That can only be Shiro's mother. 

Keith freezes halfway down the hall, unsure now that he sees that the dispute is a family affair. He can see Shiro's profile from here, must practically be drilling a hole in the other man's temple with the weight of his silent stare. 

Is this...this isn't how family is supposed to be, is it? Keith never imagined that the most familial figure he had ever known might come from...this. He's frozen in a state of uncertainty that he has never experienced even in the height of battle, caught between everything his ragtag adoptive space-family has taught him since they found him and made him theirs and doubt, because what could an orphan know about how families function? 

No. No, Shiro is his family too, and Keith should protect him, even from her. Right? 

His shoulders aren't quite as square as he would have liked, and his worry is etched in the space between wide grey eyes as he starts toward Shiro again.

As if he can tell Keith is on the move, or perhaps he sees it from the corner of his eye, Shiro realizes the intent. Things will only go from bad to worse if Keith steps into her line of sight. He can't turn full on to look at him, lest he give it away himself, but he shifts slightly on his heel, putting his body more solidly into a barrier position between Keith and his mother. He hopes the shield keeps Keith where he is because anything more overt won't slip her notice. Please, go back, he urges, even though he can't say the words. Keith stops obediently, frozen as though Shiro had given him a direct order with just the turning slope of his shoulders. 

The money comes out of his pocket and he holds it out to her like a peace offering. She spots the better alternative to her yelling and instead snatches it from him, stopping the rant so she can count it. 

"Well done, Takashi. Good to see you pulling your weight. Make sure you get a good meal in you before you head back. Have to take care of yourself, of course."

"Of course," he echoes. It's what she wants to hear, said with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I can run to the store for you too." 

"There's a good boy, now." 

Keith can't quite put his finger on why, but Mother Shirogane sounds sick. 

Shiro doesn't answer, ducking into the kitchen without looking at Keith at the other end of the hall. He grabs two cereal bars and an apple. Muttering something about going to get his coat, he steps swiftly down the hall, grabbing Keith's sleeve and pulling him back into his room.

Keith swallows back his worry, stands on his toes to try to see into the kitchen without revealing himself until Shiro comes back, and frankly he's relieved to be hauled back into the bedroom, apparently the safest space in the house. 

"Shiro," he whispers, half a hiss in its urgency. "What..? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Let's get out of here." It sounds like a command he would have given in the cockpit of the Black Lion. The tone of an order with a thread of desperation. It's the last thing he wanted Keith to see, but it's too late now. He pulls the blinds on his window and unlocks it, pushing it open. "I'll meet you outside." 

He wants to take the time to hold Keith, to steady himself, but he can't. He grabs his coat off the back of his chair and swipes up his keys. Trusting Keith will do as he's asked, he leaves the room to get out of the house through the front door. It'll bear the least explanation later.

Keith watches Shiro go again, this time without the serenity of sleep clinging to them, before stealing out the window. He hangs on the sill, just his eyes peeking over the edge until Shiro disappears from view. 

Heart pounding, he vaults a low fence, keeping to the trees and out of sight as he comes 'round to the far end of the street where they had dismounted the bike the night before and waits, hands tight on a tree. He strains to see the end of the block, desperate for a glimpse of tousled hair to tell him Shiro didn't get trapped in there.

Sure enough, Shiro shows up with his bike at his side and it's clear he's been trying to get his composure back. He offers Keith a shaky smile and holds out one of the breakfast bars. He bites his tongue on anything that might immediately slip out, feeling like the most Keith has heard out of him has consisted of apologies. He's tired of them. Just...tired.

Keith looks from Shiro's face to the bar and back before finally snatching it out of his hand and stuffing it into his pocket, more to remove it as a physical barrier to their conversation than because he's particularly hungry. 

"That was..." Keith shakes his head, scolding himself for worrying this raw wound in spite of Shiro's efforts to just leave it alone to start scarring over. "Is she okay?"

Shiro isn't offended by the action, especially since the last thing he has is an appetite. He gives Keith a sad smile and shrugs his shoulders. "I don't really know how to answer that. She's been like this a long time." 

He's grown up around her bottles and sharp words. He's heard her praise as well as her temper. As a kid, he'd just thought that was how it was supposed to be. At about the point she put the scar across his nose, he knew better, but had no way to help her without her being willing to help herself.

Keith has no idea where to find the words that might soothe Shiro's obvious ache, so he simply reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to match that sad smile with what he hopes is an encouraging one of his own. One that says, 'I'll be here when this needs to come out, you won't have to tell your history to the stars on your ceiling anymore.'

Shiro’s gaze flickers over to the hand on his shoulder, then back to Keith’s face. In the back of his mind, there’s still a voice trying to tell him it’s wrong to trust in a complete stranger.  But no complete stranger he’s ever met has ever looked at him like that. It lends a very surreal honesty to everything Keith has said about knowing him, very nearly validates how it became imperative to have Keith close to him. How easy it had been to kiss him, how well they had slotted together like puzzle pieces the universe had suddenly realized made a more complete picture together. That just doesn’t happen, the voice tells him, clawing against his insides, defying the evidence before his eyes. 

He covers Keith’s hand with his own, resisting the warning scratches along his senses. 

“I think...there’s a big red lion who’s expecting us,” he says against a faint ache. “We probably shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Keith's smile turns a little more jovial at that and he rolls his eyes at his lion's expense. "It's like you know her or something," he drawls, simultaneously making it clear with a put-upon heave of his shoulders just what a handful she can be and reinforcing for Shiro that Keith does truly believe that somewhere in there, he does know more about her, about all of the Voltron Lions, than he thinks. 

“Maybe I do,” Shiro murmurs from inside his helmet as he tucks it onto his head.

"Let’s go," he grins, already eager to have his arms around Shiro's waist again, the wind pressing him back into Keith's chest.

He doesn’t have to be reminded how to get back to Red. He thinks he would probably remember it forever now. Even if this is the only chance he ever has, he will always know how to get back to it. He’s eager to get back there, it shows in his speed, and at the same time, he relishes Keith’s arms holding him tightly, moving with him through turns, pressing closer to him. It’s difficult not to feel like he’s running, and it’s of some comfort that he’s not doing it alone. 

As Shiro revs his bike up to speed Keith presses his forehead into the crease between his broad shoulders, and doesn’t mind that the wind whips his words away before they really reach Shiro’s ears. The, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t your fault—you’re a good son,” will only put Shiro in a position to defend her…this is better. Better still, they're on the road and Keith's finally going to have a chance to give him everything he ever dreamt of. He's driving faster now, fast enough to feel like they don't just have a destination, but a whole new journey that Shiro's eager to embark on with him. 

Keith reaches out to let his fingers drag through the whipping leaves of the corn stalks as they get close, soaking in the early morning sun painting them in radiant golds. When they arrive they skid against the gravel to a stop, and Keith whistles to Red. 

Her shields drop and her enormous head lowers to the lip of the empty pond as she opens her mouth, welcoming them aboard. 

"Wanna go for a ride?" Keith says suggestively against the shell of Shiro's ear.

Shiro can barely breathe as the great beast shifts and moves at Keith’s call. He’s glad for the bike holding him up and he can blame every part of him shaking on Red’s movements. His mouth is dry, eyes wide. This is really happening, isn’t it? Something stirs in his chest, a deeper ache in his heart, as if those glowing yellow eyes are shedding light on this unnamed void within him. Something he was born to have and something that hurts when he gets close to it. But aren’t the greatest things worth the pain?

“Oh god.” He shivers, Keith’s voice so close to him despite their helmets, he can hear it loud and clear. He feels it down in his bones, he’s hungry for everything about this, especially Keith. “Are we really going to fly?”

"Not a thing in this world is gonna stop us," Keith stretches around and puts his gloved hands over Shiro's on the handlebars, encouraging him to turn the throttle, easing them up the ramp of her jaw.

Shiro can’t find it in himself to be upset about anyone but him taking control of the bike. He’d done it once, and now again with his hands right there under Keith’s. Something is there, he trusts and it tells him beyond all else he’s doing the right thing. Once he’s inside, something burns hot in his blood. His head snaps up, and he looks around, all of the controls inside coming to life. He scrambles to unstrap his helmet and yank it off, taking a deep shaky breath and wishing he could see everything at once. His head moves to and fro, control panels here, touch screens there. The dash flares to life, and he’s suddenly seeing the corn stalks from Red’s head height. His heart is racing, he’s doing this, he’s really here. 

"I know that look," Keith tells him, hooking his chin over Shiro's shoulder. "You had it the first time you saw one of these too." He chuckles a little. "We all did.”

“Please don’t let me wake up,” Shiro whispers.

Keith slides off the back of the bike and pinches Shiro playfully on the elbow. 

"You convinced yet?" he asks, wiggling Shiro's arm by the fold of skin between his fingers. "This is the real deal."

Shiro swallows hard, trying to send with it any doubts he may have left, few though they are at this point. He reaches out, daring to run his hand along the inside hull just beyond the control panels. She’s warm and rumbling under his palm. He feels a sensation he can’t quite explain shoot up his arm, stopping just under his shoulder and he bites his lip to keep from gasping. 

“Let me see you fly.”

Keith grins, proud to be in a position to give Shiro his wish, and scampers around his seat into the cockpit proper. His heart soars when he gets behind the controls, too eager to take off to wait for the ship to catch up, and being able to share that...

It's enough to distract him as he tries to recall which switch under the main dash triggers the hidden second seat to emerge from a panel in the floor behind him. He finally focuses well enough to call up the memory of the days he had spent flipping and memorizing every switch in the cockpit (much to Red's annoyance, if the way she shook him out of her was indication enough) and calls it up. 

"Buckle up, buttercup," he smirks triumphantly over his shoulder.

Shiro stumbles into the set, settling down in it. “Does this thing even have a seatbelt?” he wonders out loud, rooting around at the sides. He finds the harness after a few moments of searching, clasping it over his chest. It feels so right, and yet… He stretches his hands out and grasps at air, looking expectantly for something that isn’t there. Suddenly self-conscious, he lowers his hands to the armrests. “I’m ready when you are.” He’s never been more ready for anything in his life.

Keith catches Shiro reaching for his old controls out of the corner of his eye, and he thrills to know that the instinct remains. 

"Don't you worry, you'll be back at the helm in Black before you know it. You'll know your old strength better when you've got your hands on those throttles."

He turns back to the bank of displays set into the window before them and toggles a few key switches, for all intents and purposes stroking the parts of his great big stubborn cat that she likes to have scratched by performing proper maintenance and takeoff checks. 

"Here we go!" he calls, finally throwing the throttles forward. 

Red turns on her hind legs and with one step crosses the pond to hurtle herself up into a flying leap, her claws sinking like tractor teeth into the lip of the little crater. In a heartbeat they're up, thrusters are engaging and they're rocketing toward the sky, the bright blue before them becoming brighter, whiter, with every passing second.

Shiro watches everything with the feeble hope he can commit it all to memory in one go. If this is what he’s really meant for, he doesn’t want to get into the cockpit and fumble around. Keith and whoever he’s going home to say they know him, and that means they know more about what he would do in the Black Lion than he does. The thought is intimidating and embarrassing, maybe if he just watches Keith, tries to match up the lion’s action to the button he presses, Shiro will be okay. He knows too quickly he’ll never remember, and his heart hammers in his chest.

He said he was ready, but he isn’t actually ready for the soul deep punch of leaving the ground. He isn’t prepared for how smoothly Red turns, pivots, jumps - nothing like any machine he’s ever operated, no jerky shifts or halting starts. She moves like a real creature made of metal and prowess, taking flight. Shiro is breathless, eyes wide and pupils blown as he watches the screens before him, the sky moving beyond. Up and up they go, through the clouds, higher than he’s ever been before. Red puts more and more distance between himself and who he is down there by the second. Until they’re breaching white, red hot and lastly plunging into a black he’s only ever seen in pictures, the faded posters on his wall a shallow imitation of this vast darkness lit up with stars. He doesn’t even realize his face is wet.

Keith turns Red into a tumble as they breach the atmosphere and through the screen this other Earth hangs at an odd angle above them, the moon her tag-along in the distance. He gives Shiro a moment to just look--he knows he needed one the first time. 

Shiro stares. It's like everything he's dreamed of come to life in the most vivid color and sharpness. It has all the clarity dreams lack. "Keith...this is real..." It’s almost a question, a last shadow of doubt that he wants to hear dispelled by the very person that made this possible.

Keith nods, turning in his chair to watch Shiro watch the sky from a whole new angle for the first time. He's beautiful, taking it all in. 

"Real as it gets, big guy."

"And you're sure this was...meant to be mine too?"

"Without a doubt." Keith reaches back to put an urgent hand on Shiro's knee. "This," he gestures out to the cosmos, the thousand-billion stars surrounding them, "it's for you as much as me, as much as any of us."

He still doesn't understand how Keith can be so sure of who he is when even Shiro doesn't know. Maybe it's better this way, to find out who he is out here, with him. With them. He nods his acceptance, already trying to think of how he's going to say goodbye. It's going to be difficult but--

"Keith!" A frantic voice fills the cockpit, startling Shiro out of his reverie. "Kitty Rose, do you copy? Keith!"


	7. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro turns his hand so he can grasp Keith's. The hold is tighter than he intends but it braces him. Keith is warm and solid and Shiro thinks about waking up that morning next to him. That's not even touching the promise of flying in the stars with a family of people who looked at him with joy. Who sounded so happy to see him. He has no idea just what he's getting into, but he's not going to be alone.
> 
> "Let's go home, Keith."

The roll of Keith's eyes carries through his neck as he swivels back to the main dash and slaps his hand down in the comms to bring Pidge's face up on the screen. 

"Kitty Rose is online," he drawls indulgently. "Whaddya want, Pidge?"

"I hate to bother you while you're across the universe," Pidge continues, bespectacled face appearing on the viewscreen Keith has punched up to the left of him. It's clear from her surroundings she's in the Green lion, and the sounds of her defense systems are a din behind Pidge's voice. 

"Two Galra cruisers have spotted us. The three of us might be able to take it, but it sure would be nifty if you were back on our dimensional layer just in case."

"Good thing we got up in the air when we did, then," Keith says, immediately going into action mode. "You'll never guess who I found," he turns his screen so that Shiro's face behind him will be visible on Pidge's side.

Shiro has some luck when it comes to fixing his expression, he's already schooling it into the best smile he's got in the moment. He looks at the screen, trying to recognize the person on the other side and failing. Even so, she seems really happy to see Shiro; it's obvious in the way amber eyes light up behind a pair of wide glasses. 

"Shiro!"

"H-hey--" he quickly remembers the name Keith said when they were first hailed, "--Pidge, how's it going?"

"Did someone say Shiro?" Another screen pops up, another unfamiliar face.

"Yeah, hold on a second Hunk, and no one tell--"

"Shiro!"

"Lance," Keith finishes flatly, hanging his head in exasperation. That's one more person he'll have to wave off if Shiro isn't ready to come halfway across the universe with him. 

"YEP, there he is, right there, everyone hold on for a second." He disables the outgoing feed and mutes the incoming voices, wincing as he watches Hunk squeal and throw himself into his controls, steering away from incoming danger. 

He lets his lion idle and wrenches around in his seat to get an honest look at Shiro.

"I want you with me, but I know--" he pauses and huffs, obviously distraught even thinking of not bringing Shiro home with him right now. "I know you have a life down there that deserves more than a disappearance."

He starts babbling to get through his offer without his voice cracking under the stress.

"Red's fast, so I can get you back to the pond and still probably make it to the team in time, but you better believe I'll be back for you," he sticks a finger in Shiro's face like he's daring him to try to evade him. 

"Or..." he leaves the ‘or what’ unspoken, the silent drama unfolding on the screens behind him making it obvious that the other option is to come across the cosmos now and come back...well, eventually.

Shiro's gaze flickers between Keith and the other screens, watching their delighted faces as they pilot their lions. It's clear from the flares and the creases in their brows that they're engaged in a fight, splitting their attention with happiness and focus on the battle. He recognizes none of them, same with Keith, but there's something about them. He can't tell if it's because he once knew them or if their excitement to see him is contagious. His head is really starting to hurt. 

The reality really starts to sink in. Keith is talking about taking him back to what is supposed to pass as home. There's a fear beginning to build in him that if he goes back and deliberately tries to leave, something will hold him back. Keith will leave him behind and...and what if he never comes back? His heart violently rejects that outcome, but the fear is still there. He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. He can't stop it from shaking. 

Keith watches Shiro's eyes search the screen, hoping for some recognition and finding none. He does see their need though, and Keith almost feels guilty for leaving the faces of the team up behind him.

Still, he can't help the tentative relief sweeping through him as Shiro leans toward the sky with him. He reaches out and puts a hand on Shiro's.

"If you're sure, we'll keep you safe, Shiro. I promise you'll see this place again if you ever want to."

Shiro turns his hand so he can grasp Keith's. The hold is tighter than he intends but it braces him. Keith is warm and solid and Shiro thinks about waking up that morning next to him. That's not even touching the promise of flying in the stars with a family of people who looked at him with joy. Who sounded so happy to see him. He has no idea just what he's getting into, but he's not going to be alone. 

"Let's go home, Keith."

Keith stares at him in shock for a long moment. 

"H--" he mimics weakly.

Home. He said, 'home.'

Keith smashes the buckle of his harness open and is hauling Shiro forward with a firm hand at the back of his neck in an instant, smashing their mouths together in a bruising kiss. It's awkward, half out of his seat like this, but he has to show Shiro just exactly what he thinks of that.

When he can finally bear to release him from the kiss he still can't quite let go and just presses their foreheads together, white hair tangling with black as he lets out a hard breath. 

"Yes, sir," he grins.

Shiro isn't expecting the sudden kiss, the burst of affection he's unused to, but doesn't seem all that surprising coming from Keith. He doesn't know how he knows that, but he knows it. His hand finds itself tangled in the front of Keith's jacket, holding him near just as much as Keith is pressing into him. He's breathless in moments, his eyes half lidded as he meets Keith's gaze. A thrill runs down his spine at the sound of his voice, and a sharp-edged smile comes to him. So natural, like breathing. He's meant for his, he's sure of it.

It takes a flash from the screens glimmering in Shiro's dark eyes for Keith to remember that it's time to move and drag himself away to right his seat. 

"Right," he declares. "Time to go home." He buckles back in and reconnects the visual and audio feeds. 

"We're on our way, guys." He accelerates fast, far enough away from the planet to keep their impending warp from attracting too much attention. "Is Allura on the line?"

"I'm here, Keith." Her face appears within the cluster of the others. "Send me your coordinates, and I'll open up a wormhole for you to return."

"Woohoo! We're gettin' Shiro back!" Lance crows, making a jerking motion indicative of dodging a blast. "You're comin' in under heavy fire, Mullet, so y'better not get shot down with our fearless leader on board!"

"You and your two dollar chop-job can both bite me, Lance," Keith shoots back, but there's no sting to his voice now, just the high of reunion and pre-battle adrenaline. 

"Princess," he turns his attention, and the title is that of a commanding officer on his tongue. "Can you put us out behind the enemy ships? Give us the element of surprise and we could flank them."

"Give me a few moments to arrange the fix. I'll put you in behind the cruiser farthest from the castle. We'll maintain our positions until you make the jump. Then you and Hunk can take one while Pidge and Lance work on the other. We'll fire up the blasters on the castle and make ready to finish the job." Her hands are moving over her touch screens as Keith sends over his location. "Brace yourselves."

Behind Keith, Shiro just watches, soaking it up all just as he'd tried to do when they first took off. He listens to the commanding voice of a young woman, strong and ethereal in her element. How can he ever live up to this? He does listen when she says to be braced, his hands gripping the armrests and his shoulders tight against the back of the seat.

The wormhole opens and as usual, it feels like a hook behind the belly button yanking them across the universe. There's a huge, hollow lack of sound as Keith throws the controls forward, sending them hurtling through. It's like being sucked through a straw, and there's a distant battle at the end growing larger and larger. 

They fall out of the warp and sound catches up to them with a whoosh as Keith throws himself instinctively into battle, the Red Lion fast enough to slip through the weak point in the enemy's defenses before they were noticed.

"Welcome back to fighting the good fight, Shiro!" he calls over his shoulder as the first of his blasts connect.

Shiro resists the urge to rub his eyes, tries not to question everything he’s seeing. The wormhole itself had been magnificent, like a whirlwind of galaxy and gravity, pulling him into the unknown. On the other side seems even far less believable, two giant ships soar through the black, their mass making it seem almost in slow motion. But the moment Keith and the Red Lion join the fight, the illusion breaks, and things are moving too fast for him to keep up. Their voices are all over the place, calling out battle maneuvers, warning of incoming danger, bantering.

He wants to keep watching what Keith does at the controls so he has even an inkling of how to pilot one of these when he finally gets his chance. But his gaze is more urgently drawn to the battle beyond them. He spots the other Lions -- Green, Blue, Yellow -- and he tries to watch them too, commit how they move to his memory. Little details, like Yellow being slower but able to cause considerable damage with mass alone. Green seeming to flicker in and out of sight against the skies, moving quick and agile. Blue, flamboyant and overstated in her movements, but not without the skill of someone very comfortable with her at the helm. To say nothing of how Keith flies. Shiro is awestruck, and his hands flex again for controls of their own. He doesn’t even know if he can do it, but he yearns to try.

The first of the enemy ships explodes, and it isn’t until a slice of blue energy shoots past them that Shiro actually focuses on the gigantic ship beyond them. It’s every bit as amazing as the Lions, but in a way that seems slightly more familiar to Shiro. It bears enough resemblance to the kinds of space shuttles he would see on the news or read about in his textbooks. This looks like a craft meant to be out here, more welcoming than the dark warship things that have just been destroyed, but every bit as impressive. Shiro sags in his seat, trying to figure out how he fits into this picture. 

Keith is genuinely having fun throwing himself into the controls, sending Red hurtling through space between cannon-blasts. His eyes glitter with bursts of laser-light and the reflections of stars as they draw attention from Pidge's flickering lion and swing toward Lance's dramatically darting attacks. 

He thrills to have Shiro's gaze on the back of his neck, to show off for him.

He's proud of the synchronicity of their movements, of Hunk throwing his lion full-tilt into the last remaining ship to crush it into the wreckage beside it with a whoop. 

He cranes around in his seat as the oxygen burns off of the crumbling ships and and is smothered out by the black, eyes bright and, if he's honest, desperate for Shiro's approval.

Shiro pants like he's been running, feeling raw and adrenalized, as if he's been the one behind the controls. His hands twitch and clench, pupils blown wide and mouth slightly slack. He looks at Keith while they hover in the black, the pilot before him just as wild eyed and and so...

"Incredible. You are just...incredible." Behind Keith, the other pilots are celebrating their victory, loudly. Shiro's gaze flickers over to them, then back. "Can you cut the feed again?" He asks quieter.

Keith fills with pride at Shiro's praise, and the rumbly-warm undercurrent to his request makes the rest of the universe stop turning while all of Keith's focus zeroes in on his face, his eager eyes. 

He slams his hand down on the comms again, cutting them off from the rest of the universe.

This time it's Shiro who scrambles to get closer, clumsy in the unfamiliar cockpit, but so sure of where he wants to be. He needs the contact with Keith, the solid reassurance, a reminder of the promise this could be his as well. He twists his fingers in the front of Keith's coat and at first, it seems he'll go in for a kiss. But where he ends up is somehow so much more intimate, tucked into the crook of Keith's neck. His pulse is under Shiro's lips, Shiro breathes him in. "Thank you."

Keith gathers Shiro in as he comes, gasping into the contact as his arms wind into place around the familiar breadth of his shoulders. 

"I--" he breathes into Shiro's hair, and huffs an endeared little smile. "Welcome home."


	8. Reintroduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get ready to be clobbered with affection," he warns wryly, already anticipating the vaulting hugs waiting for Shiro.
> 
> Shiro takes a deep breath and squeezes Keith's hand again. He's as prepared as he'll ever be, remembering all their delighted faces on Keith's screens, wondering if they'll be twice as welcoming in real life. He thinks so.
> 
> "You might have to save me," he teases with a wink.

Keith is positively vibrating when the hangar doors close behind Red and they are finally back in the castle, just waiting for the airlock to give them oxygen before disembarking.

"Okay so the little one with the glasses, that's Pidge," he says helpfully, dragging Shiro up out of his seat by the sleeve. "Hunk's the big guy, can engineer damn near anything you might need like a sonofabitch," he babbles on, obviously impressed by their friends. "Lance is just a regular son of a bitch, but that's neither here nor there," he finishes conversationally, flipping his flattened palm over non-committally a few times. Red is already settling into the slumber of a restless cat as they make their way out of her hull--Keith is convinced that somehow she sleeps with one eye open. 

"Then Allura: Princess-slash-knower of nearly all things. Coran is the talking mustache who knows everything else."

He hopes that behaving as though Shiro's memory loss is no big deal will help him see it that way too, as a small obstacle rather than one to fear like a festering wound.

Shiro does his best to pay attention, even with his senses distracted by this new territory. Even just the bay where Red sleeps is fascinating, bright blue lights that feel warm, everything a polished chrome and white. He's committing names to his memory the way he would memorize constellations, over and over. Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Allura, Coran. Pidge, Hunk... He's learned Keith; something that happened so quickly, it's like he was meant to recognize him on sight, no matter his missing memories. Some things are like reflex, and knowing the feel of his lips around the name of it, his body remembering how they fit.

The Castle of Lions, as Keith called it, is the most amazing thing he's ever seen, second only to Red herself...and perhaps the entire space battle they just left. Okay, so this entire day is going down as the most amazing thing he's ever encountered. Now that he's about to face all of these people he doesn't remember in person, his nerves have returned. What if he gets them wrong? Is Keith going to tell them he doesn't remember? What if, after all this, they still can't--? He's too late to stop the pang of ache across his temples, and he presses a hand to his head. He berates himself for asking too many questions. The wrong ones still hurt. 

"So, this is where we live then?" he asks, hoping another train of thought will get the ache to subside.

"Yes. Well, sort of? Yes," Keith fumbles, his brow creasing with worry as he tries to quickly find the right words that might soothe Shiro's obvious pain. "It's sort of this long story where we lived on Earth at the Garrison," he starts again, rolling his hand like he's trying to hurry himself along, "it's the school that trains cadets up to being engineers and navigators and badass pilots like you. Fuck, being vague about this isn't going to help your hurt," he stops, puts a hand on Shiro's chest to stop him too before they've even left the hangar. "Listen, this is a longer and more..." he doesn't let himself say 'painful.'

"complex story than I thought when I started talking and it deserves--you deserve more than the cliffnotes version. For now I'll just say that yes, as of not so long ago, this is where we live." He smiles sheepishly and only hesitates a little before reaching up to cup Shiro's face and rub his thumb tenderly along his temple. "I promise it's more impressive than the cabin in the desert where I took you the last time I found you."

Shiro stops against Keith's hand and fights the desire to sweep him close again, just calm himself by listening to Keith's voice in his ear, telling him he deserves more. Since he can't, he settles for listening, meeting his gaze and nodding his understanding. He's grateful for the soothing cradle of Keith's work-roughened hand against his face, and he leans into it, letting it steady him.

Something about the words, the way Keith speaks to him, tells him there's so much more history than this ship and the Lions within. God, how he craves to know that history, curses the gaping black holes of these memories he supposedly has. "I...I'm looking forward to that and the story. I'm sure it will come with time."

Keith smiles his encouragement, and it softens the angles of his face. 

"It will."

He can't bring himself to release Shiro entirely, so he slides a hand down his arm and takes his hand again, squeezing it tight. 

"Let me know if you need a break, okay?" he urges quietly, ever-surprised at his own growing sense of gentleness, his palm hovering over the panel that will open the doors and reveal a sweeping, cathedral-esque hallway to the rest of the castle.

"Okay," Shiro responds, wrapping his fingers around Keith's. Apparently, what they are to each other is nothing they need to keep secret from the others, and that's something of a relief. He barely knows who he is now without having to keep track of who knows what and how guarded he should be. He wants to hope that if the rest of the paladins are his brothers in arms, he can trust them with his broken state, all of his missing pieces. 

He takes a deep breath, using the opportunity Keith is giving him to collect himself. He pushes back the pain, he rolls his shoulders. He can do this. "Let's go see the team."

Keith palms the door open and leads Shiro out, careful not to let his excitement drag him along too quickly to take it all in.

In the distance he can hear feet pounding toward the common chamber at the center, impatient voices ringing against the distant ceilings. They pass many closed doors on their way, some that Keith--well, someone anyway, will introduce Shiro to eventually, and some that none of them have gotten around to exploring yet, the labyrinth of the castle seemingly limitless in its nooks and crannies. 

"Get ready to be clobbered with affection," he warns wryly, already anticipating the vaulting hugs waiting for Shiro.

Shiro takes a deep breath and squeezes Keith's hand again. He's as prepared as he'll ever be, remembering all their delighted faces on Keith's screens, wondering if they'll be twice as welcoming in real life. He thinks so.

"You might have to save me," he teases with a wink.

The doors to the bridge slide open with a mechanical whoosh, and Shiro's senses are assaulted. First by the vast view of space before the castle-ship, black and full of stars, the promise of planets he's never seen before in the distance. They hover still, settled in the black while the team reunites, and for just a moment, he's awestruck by the vastness of it. Then he's assaulted bodily -- first by Pidge, who finds her own spot right against Shiro's torso, small but strong arms wrapped tightly around him. The one Keith called Lance, and exasperatedly so, somehow finds himself underneath the arm opposite Keith, and lastly, the one who could only be Hunk lifts them all off the ground in a crushing hug. 

"Shiro, welcome home," Princess Allura greets him from her console, stepping down to join them, but not getting in the way of the paladin group hug.

"Thanks," he wheezes.

Keith strains, craning his neck away in exaggerated distaste as Hunk wedges Lance in closer to him. 

"H-Hunk for the love of," he pats the bigger boy's shoulder affectionately, his breath squeezed out of him and ribs straining against Pidge's shoulder. 

He laughs when they're finally let down, everyone remaining close, congratulatory hands clapped over shoulders, grins gone wide and triumphant.

"Well done, Keith!" comes Coran's echoing accent, proud and somewhat smug, like he knew all along that no Voltron squad put together under his care could be stopped when their leader was on the line.

Shiro is swimming in an unfamiliar feel of belonging. Nothing he's ever experienced back in the world he left behind has ever felt like this. He doesn't remember them, but they remember him, and they're glad to see him. No one is asking him yet what he's done for them, how he's going to earn his keep, they're overjoyed to see him. Maybe they're happy to have the paladin of the Black Lion back, but something about the way they hug him and chatter excitedly tells him it isn't just that. 

"Ooooh my gosh, thank goodness you're back, Shiro," Hunk babbles, his voice sweet and husky as his words tumble out overtop of each other. "The dynamic is totally off without you," he slices his flattened palms apart definitively, then leans in, shielding his mouth with his hand like the others won't be able to hear his conspiratorial accusations behind it.

"Frankly, these two get awfully competitive when you're not around to reprimand them with your disappointed dad-eyes," he thumbs with his other hand at Keith and Lance.

"Oh, c'mon Hunk, don't exaggerate!" Lance protests, "we weren't that bad!" He ignores the look Pidge shoots him from behind gleaming spectacles. "We were all united in a common purpose to find our fearless leader! I mean, it figures this guy would get to him first. Again. But at least he's right where he belongs! Right, Shiro?"

Shiro's smile is nervous but sincere. "That's right, Lance."

"Did you encounter any Galra while you were on that planet, Shiro?" Allura asks. "Your Lion was empty when it came through the wormhole and your speeder was gone. Are you still hurt?"

Keith leaves off his betrayed scowling at Hunk, stops shooting telepathic accusations of, 'tattle-tale,' at him when he feels Shiro tense under his hand. 

Shiro hopes the crease in his brow is hidden quickly enough as his gaze flickers over to Keith. He tries to comb through the things they talked about when he was found, but the word hadn't come up, and the last thing he wants is to worry anyone now. "No...I didn't..." Unless his mother is secretly whatever a Galra is, he hasn't encountered it.

"Well--" Keith starts quickly, trying to get between Shiro and this awkward moment, trying to defend him, but...

This isn't something they can, or should, play off. 

He slides his hand up Shiro's back, tucks himself under his arm, a physical show of his support.

"It's alright, Shiro," he murmurs into his shoulder, just for him even if the rest of them can hear it. "They're going to find out anyway. They're going to help you. We all are." He looks up at Shiro with a question in his eyes, silently offering to explain the situation for him, if it's easier that way.

It’s the moment of truth, and Shiro can’t help but feel like everything is going to burst around him. Like a bubble made up of this frail persona that is the Shiro these people all know and respect. And when it does, he’ll be right back where he started. A part of him, a stronger part than even he expects, is still hopeful. There’s so much he doesn’t know, so he can’t be too hasty to assume what their reactions will be. He has to be as certain as Keith is this will be all right. He takes a slow breath -- in, out. 

“I’m sorry, guys,” he says, his smile sheepish, maybe even scared. “There’s something I’m going to need to tell you.”

Lance is the first one to jump to conclusions. No one is surprised. “Waitaminute, you’re not about to pull a Pidge and quit Team Voltron on us, are you?”

"Of course he's not," Keith insists defensively, realizing too late that his fear of that very thing could come across insulting to Shiro and even more so to Pidge. "Sorry," he huffs to them both, trying to drive away an anxiety he can't quite escape and placing a palm on Pidge's shoulder. "No, just. It's nothing we haven't dealt with before, so don't overreact." 

Pidge frowns and tilts her head, relaxing a bit under Keith's hand. He knows there's no insult and Lance is just Lance. She peers up at Shiro's conflicted expression and ponders the words nothing we haven't dealt with before. The lightbulb comes on, and she gasps,  eyes wide. "Shiro, you don't remember, do you?"

Startled, Shiro blinks, then ducks his head, feeling the weight of his shortcomings bearing down on his broad shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Hunk heaves, shoulders slumping in relief. "Way to make it sound like you were dying or something!" He tenses back up as the reality of the situation sinks in. 

"Oh, man," his eyes go wide, concern making his voice strain higher, a little raspier. "How far back? You still know us, right?" His real question, 'did I totally just invade your space as a perfect stranger?' is obvious in his big eyes where he's still wedged in between his friends.

Shiro finds it so easy to reach out and put his free hand on Hunk's arm, hoping the gesture is reassuring. "I will remember," he says, as much for himself as for them. "It's easy to tell I have a family here. I'm sure it won't take long."

Allura casts a look at Coran, her expression wary, but she manages a smile for Shiro. "Once you've gotten back into the habit of piloting the Black Lion, it should all come back to you."

Shiro hopes so, with all his might.

Family. The word sticks in Keith's brain, stops up his throat. He had gone so long without one of those, had felt so lucky to find one, and now after months of his family feeling broken, it is finally mostly whole again. He ducks his head and swallows back the emotion welling in his chest before straightening again and clearing his throat.

"Damn right, Princess." Keith lifts a hand to Shiro's shoulder and hugs him to his side. "Your fingers will know their old strength better once they're wrapped around the thrusters again. Oh!" he surprises himself remembering Shiro's other unexpected change.

"Speaking of fingers, Shiro has all of his?" he says, curious but obviously unconcerned. He pulls Shiro's right hand up to display it, shaking his wrist just enough to get him to wiggle his fingertips.

Like a little kid being asked to say goodbye, Shiro gives a half-hearted wave, trying not to feel uncomfortable as the other paladins crowd in around him. They’re all talking and making noises of surprise, it’s hard to keep up with who’s asking what and knows better than to try and answer anyway. Keith hadn’t really gone into detail about how he’d lost his arm in the first place, and honestly? Some part of him really doesn’t want to know anyway. Over Hunk’s head, he can see Allura watching them -- watching him. He knows the look of someone who doesn’t believe what she’s seeing, who doesn’t trust him, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. He thought he’d left that behind. She catches him looking at her and immediately turns away to run her fingers over her control panel.

He suddenly realizes they’ve all gone quiet, all but Keith looking up at him expectantly. 

“Uhhhh,” he starts off intelligently. “I really can’t explain it. I don’t...remember not having it.” Ever. Not a single day in his life. But somehow he doesn’t think clarifying further will help his case. He thinks about adding ‘maybe it’ll come back to me’, but that seems a little close to asking for the prosthetic itself back, which seems...well, less than ideal.

"But he is Shiro. Our Shiro," Keith insists over the voices all building in the direction of suspicion. "Something weird obviously happened, but he knew things no imposter could have known. And it wouldn't make sense for the Galra to plant an imperfect replica if they were trying to infiltrate us anyway. They could've made another arm if that was their game."

Pidge looks thoughtful. “That logic is sound. After all the Galra have done thus far, it doesn’t make sense for them to put a half-assed replica of Shiro together and then hide it somewhere we only had the slimmest chance of finding him. It’s not like they didn’t make the arm, they know what it looks like.” A glance up at Shiro. “It’s still really weird, but maybe it has something to do with the wormhole being compromised. You know, like Coran almost becoming a moustache-shaped embryo before the green lion sent out its signal.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Coran huffs.

Keith's eyes tilt with exaggerated nonchalance up toward Shiro, curious to see what does and doesn't surprise him. Their world is fucking strange, he realizes not for the first time, especially for someone not quite up to speed.

"We won't make you talk about it, Coran. I'm sure Lance will happily show Shiro the surveillance tapes later, catch him up," Hunk chimes in helpfully, dodging Coran’s death-glare with a wince. Lance had taken particular joy in watching Coran's regression as they all huddled around the screen, choking on laughter muffled in each other's shoulders.

Shiro himself manages a bit of a smile. "I'm sure it'll be something." Everything here is. This all feels like a dream he's living, and he wonders if the rug will get yanked out under him at any moment. Did he think about that when he remembered who he was? With a prosthetic arm and piloting a mechanical lion, did it feel like a dream then too? He looks down at his hand, perfectly normal, if a little calloused. What kind of paladin is he going to be when he doesn't remember all of these people, especially Keith, or his Lion? 

The Black Lion.


	9. Patience Yields Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's something on the tip of my tongue," he tells Keith as he tries to reach out with his mind. He's never tried anything like this before, and he laughs softly. "Like something corny but important, you know?"
> 
> "Patience yields focus," Keith says on a whoosh of air practically punched out of him. "You told me that when I went looking for my Lion." His voice is soft and fond. "Actually," he sighs wistfully, "you've been reminding me of that lesson when I get ahead of myself ever since I've known you." He slides his hand into Shiro's, a little shy, and squeezes his thanks.

The Black Lion.

"Can I see her?" Shiro asks quietly

Keith and the other paladins light up at Shiro's humble request, each offering their own encouragements. Each of them treasure their ethereal, unnerving, impossible bonds with their respective Lions, and are eager to see their leader reclaim his. For their sake as well as his...they are bound to each other too now, and without Shiro and the Black Lion they have been incomplete.

Hunk shifts his weight from foot to foot, anxious to hurry Shiro off. "Okay, go? I am so ready for things to get back to normal around here." 

Keith gives him a good-natured little eye-roll as he steers Shiro toward the doors at the end of the bridge. "Come on."

Once the doors have whooshed shut behind them, cutting off the conversation following them out into the hall, Keith nudges Shiro in the side.

"How ya holdin' up?"

Shiro inhales slowly, trying not to make it obvious he finally feels like he can breathe again. He suspects Keith will probably pick up on it anyway. For someone he doesn't remember, Keith has had an uncanny knack for reading him just as well -- better, in fact -- than people he's known most of his life. For not the first time since this all started, he thinks it should bother him.

"Not bad for someone on his not-first trip to space talking about saving the universe," he says with a smile that is half for show and half his usual humor. "I've gotta know, Keith, isn't this all...really weird to you? Maybe I just haven't been around the others enough, but you're a lot more comfortable about it than I expected."

"I think my weirdness meter shorted out pretty early on, frankly." Keith tilts his head back, recalling his first glimpse of the cave with its strange leonine markings, the way they all had to crane their necks to take in Blue's mass in the cave. "You see an enormous mystical Lion in person the first time and you either believe or...or shut down, I guess. Once I took that first step toward believing that something was going on, it wasn't so hard to accept the rest coming as it would. Life's already so goddamn weird, the next thing might as well happen. And the next, and the next..."

He pauses, huffing a self-deprecating little laugh before he continues. "I might've been a bit predisposed to belief in the first place. The first time you vanished...it was a lot easier to believe something otherworldly had happened than to accept the bullshit the Garrison tried to feed us about you crashing."

"Well, thankfully I didn't shut down when I saw you and the Red Lion. I guess if you find yourself wanting to go to space in the first place, you can't help but think there might be more out there, right?" 

Shiro files that information away with the tidbits Keith had told him when they were still back on his planet. He looks around at the castle walls as they walk through the corridors. Something about the path feels familiar, like he might have dreamed about it once before and doesn't remember the details. Muscle memory. Eerie but reassuring, giving him a faint hope he's still the one they're looking for, even without his metal arm and knowledge of the Lions.

"I knew you'd roll with it," Keith says somewhat smugly, "You've never been one to turn away from the unknown. Speaking of turns...I don't suppose any particular direction is calling to you right now?" He stops as they come to a crossroads in the corridors. "Just see if you can feel her out."

It's a gamble, there's no guarantee that Shiro will even know what the connection to her should feel like to go looking through himself for it, but it's worth a shot.

Shiro gives Keith a dubious look as they stop right where they are in the hallway. There are no distinguishing features, nothing that stands out here, just a seemingly endless wall of white with neatly placed blue-green lights. So structured and neat -- sterile. He shakes off that feeling, closing his eyes to all the brightness and forcing himself to concentrate. 

"There's something on the tip of my tongue," he tells Keith as he tries to reach out with his mind. He's never tried anything like this before, and he laughs softly. "Like something corny but important, you know?"

"Patience yields focus," Keith says on a whoosh of air practically punched out of him. "You told me that when I went looking for my Lion." His voice is soft and fond. "Actually," he sighs wistfully, "you've been reminding me of that lesson when I get ahead of myself ever since I've known you." He slides his hand into Shiro's, a little shy, and squeezes his thanks.

Shiro squeezes back, a little tighter than he means to, but it grounds him. He smiles shakily as the entirety of his being resonates with those words. "Patience yields focus," he repeats. Then says it again, hollowing out the lump of fear sitting heavy in him with the strength he finds in those words. He doesn't let go of Keith, just breathes and hopes with all his might he'll feel something. Anything.

Brows drawn, Keith watches intently as Shiro tries to take his own advice. Whether this works or not, Keith has his hand, his back; he won't give up. 

An otherworldly sense tangles into Shiro, expands between his ribs like something quaking in him. Shiro gasps and tries to take hold of it with everything he is. Almost without his awareness, his feet start moving, and with his hand still in Keith's, he pulls the other along. He's not entirely aware of where he's going, but maybe it's the right way. Maybe Keith would stop him if not. He keeps walking until his feet stop, and he dares to open his eyes.

They're standing before a great door, bigger than anything Shiro's ever seen before. As if they've tripped some sort of sensor, the hangar doorway starts to raise. Shiro holds his breath.

"I knew it. I knew you could do it." Keith's hand, happily half-strangled in Shiro's grip even without the prosthetic, squeezes his certainty. "You found her," his pride is crisp and clear and echoes into her hangar as the doors swing open.

Shiro breathes heavily, his eyes bright and wet as first the massive paws are revealed, claws sharp and menacing. Black is magnificent, so much larger than Keith's Red Lion, a different build and feel to her. With every bit of her revealed to him, Shiro feels like a crushing weight presses down harder and harder on him. He's frightened, he can't think. The door clanging to a halt when it's fully opened makes him jump. The silence is razor sharp; Shiro can't take it.

"Hey, I'm home."

While Shiro takes her in, the sheer awesomeness of her stoic majesty, Keith takes him in. Watching the wonder and fear play across his face, the struggle and desire to believe his eyes...it's beautiful. 

He doesn't say anything about what could happen, or should. Doesn't want to interrupt the moment or create an expectation to fall short of. He just loosens his grip so that Shiro can pull away and go to her when he's ready.

It takes a long moment before he steps away, in a daze as he moves, one foot in front of the other. The closer he gets, the taller and more intimidating she becomes. He stops in front of one of her paws, and he hesitates to lay his hand down on it. He's shaking, maybe Keith won’t notice. He closes his eyes again and waits.

Minutes pass, everything stays quiet. The thrum in his lungs, the swell at his core, it all starts to slip away. He waits. Silence starts to burn as well as cut into him. His mouth is dry.

"Is...something supposed to happen?" he asks, and he hates how thin his voice sounds.

Anxiety thrums through Keith. He knew this. He had felt this when Red had refused to acknowledge him at first, the fear of not being worthy, the rising tide of panic asking how the hell he was going to prove himself before the Galra caught him. 

"Sometimes," he hedges. "Blue opened right up for Lance. Other times they can be more stubborn about responding to their paladin. Red was, with me." He approaches carefully and resists the urge to rap his knuckles against her claw and demand a response on Shiro's behalf, after all he had been through. Instead he takes a deep breath, trying to channel the calm Shiro must've seen in him if he ever believed Keith could be anything like a leader, and does his best to file his frustration away. Or at least shove it back. He puts a hand on Shiro's shoulder. 

"The fact that you felt her out at all was a great first step." The forced gentleness of his voice probably gives away more than he would've liked about the fact that Shiro's Lion should be responding to him, and Keith flinches at himself for it.

Even with Shiro trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, his heart is hammering in his chest. All of that fear is coiling back up in his gut, snaking through his veins. He questions himself, doubts everything he found himself needing to be. It was crazy right from the start, wasn't it? While all the signs screamed at him he doesn't fit this mold, his heart yearns for the familiarity he's been catching bits of along the way, fleeting.

"You're probably right." He doesn't believe a word of what he's saying. At the darkest depths of himself, he feels rejected and he doesn't think it's a fluke. He strokes fondly over her paw, but his entire demeanor is sad. "She probably...just needs to get used to me again. I won't push it. I can come back."

"Hey," Keith says firmly, planting himself in front of Shiro and that train of thought to stop it in its tracks. "I am right." His trademark stubborn tone is firm as steel now. "I know because I was in your shoes. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to prove myself worthy of Red when she refused me, and when I did it was more stumbling into it than anything else. You two will work this out."

Keith cups Shiro's cheek and ducks his head to make Shiro look at him. 

"Patience yields focus, Shiro. It will come."

Keith's hands on him are warm, and Shiro takes a shuddering breath. Just like before, those words resonate with him. It can't be just his imagination, right?

"It will come," he echoes, meeting Keith's gaze for a moment before wistfully look back at the Black Lion. "We'll get through this."


	10. The Alignment of Their Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm really on a castle ship in space, huh? Those stars are beautiful." He straightens but doesn't let go of Keith, gazing around the room, with it's large bed decked out in black and silvery linens that look like a cross between velvet and silk. He wants to run his hands over them. 
> 
> "They really are," Keith says, but he's not looking out the window. He's watching the way they glimmer reflected in Shiro's dark eyes.

Shiro tries to center himself with another deep breath and then he steps back. "There's a room here for me, right?" He wonders if there are things there that might also seem familiar. Personal effects of a life he doesn't remember that can jog his memory. "Will you take me there?"

Keith just nods and takes Shiro's hand again, draws him away and doesn't say anything if he pauses for another look before the hangar door slides shut. 

The first leg of their walk toward Shiro's quarters is mostly silent but for their echoing footfall, Keith's lips pressed tight as he tries to find the right thing to say, which...well he had spent a lifetime cultivating the habits of a silent type up until he had been swept up in all this, and it still wasn't easy.

"The Black Lion is the head of Voltron," he blurts, his tone caught in the awkward middle between trying to be informative and comforting. "All the lions come together to make a big ass-kicking super-robot and Black is the head. She has to be rock solid to keep us together." Keith always gets frustrated having to walk through the steps of something's logic, always wishes he could just blurt the whole concept out in one mouthful so there doesn't have to be these awkward moments before he can finally get to his point. 

"Her paladin has to be steady too. I think she must know something happened to you and is just," he huffs, "being patient. Waiting for you to find...whatever it is that got lost when the Galra dumped you on your planet so that the bond between you will be stable when she does open up."

Everything Keith is saying makes sense, and Shiro nods his somewhat spotty understanding of it. He can't help that there's still something in his gut telling him there's more to it than either of them can see right now. He's at a bit of standstill until he can figure out how to make the most of the situation, connect with this giant sentient machine who is depending on him as much as he is starting to feel he depends on her. Without her, his lack of memories mean he doesn't know who he is anymore. If only he just had the proof...

Shiro swallows. He will get it, he has to keep up that hope. And at least he has Keith, who believes in him so much, despite everything that has tried to undermine his identity as the black paladin. As Shiro. As they pause outside of one of the doors, Shiro turns and sweeps Keith up into his arms, practically crushing the red paladin to his chest. He holds on to the one thing, the one person, this stranger who grounds him out here where there is no ground to speak of. He tucks his nose into Keith's neck, breathes in, tries to commit everything to his senses. He needs to buck against the feeling still lingering that he might wake up and all of this will be gone.

Keith catches Shiro on instinct, just absorbs the unstoppable force of him and wraps him up before he even really knows what's happening. As Shiro breathes him in Keith eases into it, tilts his head to rest against Shiro's and soothes him by stroking the hair at the back of his neck. 

He has just enough room to reach back at the wall and trigger the door to Shiro's room without really letting go. 

"Come on. In."

Later, Shiro might feel a gnawing guilt for practically crashing into Keith and laying the weight of his problems and doubts on smaller if obviously strong shoulders. At the moment, however, he can only focus on just how easily Keith braces him, guides him along. Their shuffled footsteps are only slightly awkward, like a dance they only know half the steps to but try regardless. 

He lifts his head from Keith's shoulder when the doors close behind him, feeling like he can finally breathe now that they're alone again. It reminds him of the sanctuary his room back...home? had felt like, but very very different. This time, when he sees glowing stars over his bed, they're real. He lets out an incredulous laugh, 

"I'm really on a castle ship in space, huh? Those stars are beautiful." He straightens but doesn't let go of Keith, gazing around the room, with it's large bed decked out in black and silvery linens that look like a cross between velvet and silk. He wants to run his hands over them. There are smaller doors opposite the window and bed, which he assumes might be a closet and bathroom, but he won't be sure until he pokes around.

"They really are," Keith says, but he's not looking out the window. He's watching the way they glimmer reflected in Shiro's dark eyes. 

With Shiro back, the castle finally feels like a whole home again, and Keith takes his own moment to soak that in by pressing his forehead to Shiro's chest and taking a big breath. It feels so damn good to finally be able to breathe after so long spent feeling like his lungs were paralyzed with missing him. It lasts perhaps longer than he intended, long enough to enjoy it and recover, ready to be rock-steady for Shiro again when he tilts his chin back up.

It's reflex really, Shiro doesn't even think about it before his hand is sliding up into Keith's hair. Thick, soft between his fingers, comforting. There is something about the way Keith looks up at him that conveys this is his his touchstone, someone who wants to be here for him. No matter what his lack of memory might imply, Keith is treating him not merely like a lover, but a friend. Maybe even his best friend.

"I'm scared, Keith," he says quietly, as if admitting it too loud will be a one-way ticket to this dream falling apart.

Keith sighs his understanding gently, a sweet little smile softening his sharp features, and reaches up to cradle Shiro's jaw. He slides his fingertips up beneath Shiro's ears and around the back of his neck to keep him close, already massaging his scalp through the short-cropped hair when he pulls the taller man down to press their foreheads together. 

"I know. But I've got you" he swallows, stands up on his toes and pulls himself closer to drop a kiss at the corner of Shiro's mouth. "I've got you."

Even as Shiro's heart folds like a house of cards under Keith's onslaught of persistent affection, his mind gives a last desperate jab at safety and caution. Immediately, Shiro shoots it down. Keith's actions are so blatant and real to him. There are no ticks, no dishonesty, Keith touches him like he means something, kisses him with a wild tenderness Shiro doesn't remember with his brain, but something inside him remembers down to his bones. He doesn't understand it, but he's tired of fighting it. So he doesn't.

His breath hushes out in a sigh. He's safe. "You've got me," he whispers back, tightening his embrace, leaning into Keith wholly. He turns his head so that the next kiss isn't at the corner of his mouth, but complete and just as important. "I'm yours," he says against Keith's lips, breathing him in.

Keith can feel the tides of Shiro's emotions in his shoulders tensing, rising, finally releasing in a slow and steady wave of giving in to trust. Keith rides it until the calm comes and he can dive in.

He kisses Shiro slowly for once; patiently, focused. His lips should be chapped, wind-whipped from his bike, but are somehow soft and pliant for him, making him eager to build that focus to something that burns, that has them both panting.

This time as Shiro becomes lost it’s not so frightening, lost out amidst the stars with this person so close to him. They kiss, he hungrily responds, tasting him and savoring every moment. Keith is intense, just like he was the night before they left Earth. He wants more, he wants to give more. Falling asleep to the shape of him had been so good, but he knows there's more, there's been more. It's in every tight line of Keith's muscles, the grip of his hands. Shiro surrenders to it, and when they finally break apart breathlessly, they're still touching foreheads, unwilling to be any farther away. Shiro bites a kiss-swollen lower lip, then bucks up the courage to say, "Remind me what it's like to be yours."

Hearing that knocks the breath out of Keith and he just stares for a long moment, nails biting into Shiro's skin where his grip has gone possessive. 

"Mine..." he says, just to hear it again, to revel in it as he swells to fit himself back into their rightful dynamic. Keith slots their thighs together as close as possible and can't help the needy roll of his hips that follows as he pushes Shiro back toward the bed. 

"As many times as it takes. I'll always find you, Shiro."

How many times has he been lost? How often had Keith been made to come after him? The questions would have worried a knot into his brow if not for Keith's assurance that it's all right. Maybe not all right, but safe. It affirms in his heart that he doesn't want to be lost again. He's much happier being found, being Keith's, and he's going to drag the pieces of himself back no matter what it takes. 

As if this is a dance his body is familiar with, he moves with the press of Keith's body. Shiro aligns himself to the orbit Keith swings them into, everything responding hungrily. It's just like the kiss, only the need is everywhere. From the tingling heat of his skin, down past his bones. He wants. The smile that comes to his face is broad, encouraging. "You found me, I'm yours."

The backs of his legs hit the bed, and without a second thought to it, he lets gravity take him. Holding tight to Keith, there's no choice but to follow. The stars shift closer as they fall, eclipsed only by Keith splayed on top of him, his features perfect against the backdrop of the magnificent expanse beyond them. Shiro is meant for this, he's sure of it. His smile breaks into a rumble of laughter as he arches up against Keith.

Keith's smile lights his face like unexpected daybreak in response to Shiro's laughter. It's only when it starts to unravel that he can feel the knot of worry that Shiro would regret coming here with him that he has been carrying since they left his house that morning. 

"I missed you," he coos eagerly, relieved, into Shiro's throat as he dives in with that greedy excitement that makes him squirmy and restless as it wells up. "I'll show you. I'll show you--" he pants, rucking up Shiro's shirt, obsessed with the chance to prove himself, to describe the nature of their intertwining destinies with the alignment of their bodies.

Next thing Shiro knows, he’s moving to help Keith, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off for him. There are scars he’d rather not talk about across his skin, but they feel like they’re from another life. And besides, a part of him is sure Keith won’t look at them with judgement or pity. No, his hands will glide over them as surely as the rest of him. “Show me,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want. Whatever you want.” He’ll give it, anything, for a taste of what’s between them, eagerly anticipating learning how Keith takes care of him, how he belongs to him.

"I just..." Keith starts, but he has to stop and take a moment to look at Shiro spread out beneath him. /What do I want?/ Shiro looks so...vulnerable. Shiro trusts him. 

Keith wants to not fuck this up. Right now it's on /him/ to be the one who knows what's going on, and that means finding the patience to focus without expecting Shiro to remind him. Too often Keith comes at the world to hard and too fast, over-eager to right a wrong with the blunt application of force, too afraid to let an opportunity to strike slip by and risk things getting /worse/. 

Not this time. 

Keith closes his eyes and breathes Shiro in. When he opens them again, his eyes are clear. Focused. Calm.

"I just want to remind you," Keith finally answers, a low assurance that for now Shiro doesn't need to take up the heavy mantle of 'leader,' doesn't have to give anything when he already gave up so much just to trust Keith to bring him here...no, for now, all he has to do is lie back and take.

"Just let me take care of you, for once." He says it like the promise of a postulant come to worship at the temple of the god that blessed him. He eagerly takes up his responsibilities here, and sets about his work by laying a lattice of kisses over Shiro's chest

Shiro doesn’t resist, doesn’t push up against Keith’s grip, nor does he protest. Instead, he lifts his larger frame off the bed as if he’s the offering intended to please. “Whatever you want, Keith.” The words come off his tongue so easily. Because Keith’s desires are a part of his own. Keith wants to give Shiro reminders, and Shiro wants to remember. Keith wants to take care of him, and oh god, Shiro wants to be taken care of. Not that he wouldn’t turn and give everything back tenfold in the end, but he craves this. 

Keith will welcome him home.


	11. Keith, Black, and the New Mission

Every day the team’s enthusiasm bolsters Shiro’s confidence, and Keith revels to see him thrive surrounded by his family. Keith watches, arms crossed and leaning against the wall in the eaves as Hunk assures Shiro that nothing jogs the memory like smell and wafts plates of steaming food goo under his nose. Shiro smiles and nods, all innocent in his clumsy attempts at reassurance that “yeah, um, I think something’s coming back to me?”    
  
Lance asks Keith if he’s having fun holding up the wall and Keith swats at him as he dances out of reach.    
  
Two days later Keith finds Pidge sitting cross-legged on Shiro’s back, flicking through a digital copy of the DSM VII on her tablet while he does pushups, rattling off facts about how uncommon amnesia truly is and what a fascinating research opportunity this could be.    
  
“Not that Shiro is a guinea pig, of course, but wouldn’t it be fascinating to know whether a brain which has previously exhibited amnesiac symptoms might be more inclined to regress--not that you’ve regressed, Shiro, of course--into a similar state in the future? The neuroscientific implications are endless, frankly, and treatment varies depending on whether the symptoms are rooted in physical trauma or psychological events--”    
  
Hunk is the one to cut her off with a look that sends her scrambling, somewhat forced, for a believable tangent into something unrelated, shoulders hunched guiltily.    
  
“It’s alright, Pidge,” Shiro assures her. “Acknowledging it...helps. I know my life can’t possibly have been all sunshine and daisies, and ignoring that won’t get me any closer to my memories. Keep going.” She smiles, sticks her tongue out at Hunk, and starts questioning the qualifications of the researchers cited in the journal she has pulled up on her tablet.    
  
Coran pushes Shiro back into an intense training regimen.   
  
“What the mind has forgotten,” Coran announces, “the body remembers. Muscle memory, Shiro--it’s like riding a velocicycle.”    
  
“He doesn’t need to remember how to ride a velocicycle, Coran, he needs to  _ relax, _ ” Lance insists, spreading his palms out flat in front of him smoothly before bunching them into fists to roll in time with his hips. “A little music, a little dancing--enough of this pressure, just let the man cut loose for once!”   
  
Whether he remembers anything or not, every day the team’s voices build Shiro up. He swells with pride to see their successes and blossoms in the warmth of their friendship.    
  
Every evening, Black tears him back down with her silence.    
  
Keith knows Shiro doesn’t like to see him fail from the way his shoulders hitch high like a shield between his grief over another night of being deemed unworthy and any witness, so he takes to waiting in their room. Every night Shiro goes to her, and every night he comes back looking a little more defeated. Every night Keith brushes his hair back, kisses him on the mouth, and distracts Shiro from the fear that he might be an imposter without ever meaning to be.    
  
The night Keith catches him standing outside her hangar door like he’s too wounded to try again, Keith waits until he’s sleeping and stomps down to Black’s hangar himself, snarling at that ultraviolet ember buried deep in his heart as he goes. She’s waiting for him when he arrives: silent and impassive, unmoving, but waiting.    
  
He stares at her, arms crossed and fuming.    
  
“You  _ know _ it’s him,” Keith accuses with a finger jabbed in her direction, his stance aggressive and outrageous in juxtaposition to her massive stoicism. “I know you do--I can feel him  _ through you.”  _ It’s the first time he has voiced that aloud and in spite of the strangeness he knows it’s true. His temper flares and suddenly his croaky, crackling voice is filling her hangar like something noxious.    
  
“You let me in and now you can’t fucking lie to me.” The realization feels like an edge in this one-sided shouting match, and he holds it up like a blade. “You know damn well that’s Shiro and you must see it’s killing him, not living up to your expectations.” He’s not certain when he started pacing. “What are you waiting for; you waiting for him to prove himself to you  _ again _ ? Are you waiting for him to be whole? He wasn’t whole the first time you bonded, I don’t see why now should be any different. Anyway, if you gave a shit about him, about  _ any of us _ , you’d  _ help _ him.”   
  
She’s silent, but somewhere in the back of his head, Keith  _ feels  _ a low warning growl and the shock of it makes him stumble to his knees. He stares at the floor, his weight braced on his palms. He looks up at her through the sweaty black curtain of his hair and smashes his fist into the ground.    
  
“He needs you! He--”   
  
Keith is cut off by the cacophonous ringing of the emergency alarm. He whips his head around toward the door and when he looks back up at her, the growling in the back of his mind has gone quiet.    
  
He shouldn’t have shouted at her. She lost Shiro that day too, after all. He left them both behind.    
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
Keith sprints from the hangar and the Black Lion remains silent. 

/

Keith has a nasty headache by the time he reaches the bridge, and he’s not sure if that’s from the Black Lion or the alarms, but it doesn’t really matter. He rakes a hand through his hair, glancing over at Shiro. He’s standing next to Allura and Coran, spine straight and arms crossed with the pensive considering look they’d all gotten used to from the Princess. His focus was on the matter at hand. The alarms have finally given up the ghost, but the screen closest to Allura is lit up in red. 

“It’s a distress signal from planet Shumazee in this tiny little quadrant right over here,” Coran points out. “The castle is having a difficult time picking up how long it’s been since the signal was sent, but since we’re out to save the universe and help those in need, no one’s going to mind a little side trip, right? Good.”

The jump takes very little time, and Shumazee looms into view. As they break atmo, the group looks on in discomfort. 

“It...looks like there’s nothing here,” Lance says, crossing his arms. “We’re probably, like, eight thousand years too late for it or something.” 

“But there’s still something down there. The castle is picking up a beacon,” Allura insists.

Shiro frowns. “I say land us somewhere near to it but not right on top of it. If it is a trap, we don’t want to put the castle or the Lions right onto the trigger.”

“Then what?” Hunk asks.

“I’ll scout,” Keith is quick to suggest. Everyone looks at him. He resists the urge to cross his arms defensively and stands his ground. “One speeder, a quick check, and if there really is nothing out here, we go. Fair, right?” He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he just needs the speed and something to do with himself so he doesn’t have to think about what just happened in Black’s hangar. 

“I don’t like that idea,” Shiro says, and it’s so very like him to sound like that when he’s more than willing to do that himself. Or at least he was at one point, and that’s how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place. 

“Just...it’ll be all right. I really don’t think there’s anything here, but I think something’s not right either. I’ll radio you from the ground. Be ready, just in case.” Mind made up, Keith stalks out of the room and doesn’t give Shiro a chance to offer himself up as sacrifice this time. 

Keith’s speeder takes off in the direction of the distress signal.

Within minutes, Galra infused quintessence strikes the Castle of Lions, and everything goes dark.


	12. The Only Working Engine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I must've really hit my head," Keith says sourly. "Your indicator light looked so far away when it popped up on my radar before the crash."
> 
> That--something about that sounds wrong, thrums against his nerves like a sour chord. Why is that wrong?
> 
> “It’s all right now. We’re going to take care of that hard head of yours. Let’s just get you on your feet.”

Keith’s speeder lays on its side in the dirt, its paladin sprawled not too far from it, a heap of red and white with splashes of black. Footsteps approach, heavy and sure, and then a shadow falls across Keith’s face, blocking the planet’s double suns. 

“Keith.” it’s Shiro’s voice, sounding like it’s coming from the other end of a tunnel, liquid and wavering. “Keith, stay with me.” 

An arm slides under Keith, jostling his protesting body up into a half-sitting position. Blood trickles down from his temple, tickling its way over his cheek to drip off his jaw. 

“Pretty nasty tumble you took. Your speeder’s out of commission, but we’ll need to get you to the ship.”

Keith doesn't so much turn toward Shiro's voice as loll in his grip, limp and dazed. He tries to reach for a shoulder like he could get himself up if he just had that familiar body to brace against, but barely manages to graze the Shiro shape filling his hazy vision. Keith closes his eyes again, fine with Shiro moving him since /he/ at least seems to know which way is up at the moment.

He tries to ask the only question he can think of but the first syllable catches in the back of his mouth with a sick, squelching noise where the blood and spit are already curdling in his throat. At least his ears are ringing so he only has to feel it rather than hear it. He lets his cough carry him forward into Shiro's chest and tries again, face half-smashed into a broad chest. 

"What the hell hit me?"

Keith is shifted a little further, trying to get him into a better position to take in air. Maybe it will help get past the blood on his tongue, the lump in his throat. 

"I'm not sure, but whatever it was killed all our power. The ship, our lions, any kind of tech linked with the castle. We can't draw from anything here. I'm really glad I followed you. I wrecked close by and saw you go down."

Keith's head rolls back and his whole body heaves with the utter relief of being able to breathe properly. It only takes one or two quick, deep gasps before his eyes are fluttering open and he's trying to look around, get some context before he goes searching out Shiro's face against the blinding sky. There's something hard digging into his back distracting him and he has to squint and one eyes seems intent on swelling shut sooner rather than later, but he finds his mark. There's that brick wall of a jaw; he'd know it anywhere.

Just the looking had taken up more of his ability than his brain apparently had to spare at the moment, if the delayed understanding of what Shiro had said was anything to go on.

_ All our power. _

"Shit. If everything's down we must be what? Walking back?"

He closes his eyes, already bracing against the idea of even having to stand after that wreck, and he had come so far, he should have just gone back when Allura said--

Keith tenses. 

"How do you know the lions are down? And the castle? If we've got no power, we've got no comms to get that message." The hard bit of something lined up along his spine aggravates his shoulder more now that he's trying to lever against it to pull back.

Somewhere in the shadow of the face he knows, there's a twitch of lips. It's almost as if it wants to be a smile, but it drops into a frown instead.

"All the things connected to the ship are powered by the ship's quintessence right?" he asks, sounding unsure. "I assumed if our speeders, which are connected to the lions, are down, so is everything else. I'd like to be wrong, but I don't think I am."

He reaches up, warm fingers carefully brushing Keith's hair away from his face. It feels gentle, but only out of necessity. It's...off somehow…

"...right." It makes sense, if he wraps his crash-muddled brain around it right. Keith presses the heel of his palm into his eye and ducks away from Shiro's hand for what is maybe the first time in his life, wondering without much hope if the thread of anxiety worming through him is just leftover from the stress of the crash. "I suppose if Red were awake she'd have smashed her way through the planet's core to come find my sorry ass by now," he fusses, voice even huskier than normal with the weight of his worry for her. If the lions are down, the lions are vulnerable. They all are.

He fidgets in Shiro's arms, uncomfortable and unsettled, though his almost certainly concussed head feels heavy enough that just holding still and sinking back into the dark would be all too easy.

"I must've really hit my head," Keith says sourly. "Your indicator light looked so far away when it popped up on my radar before the crash."

That--something about that sounds wrong, thrums against his nerves like a sour chord. Why is that wrong?

“It’s all right now. We’re going to take care of that hard head of yours. Let’s just get you on your feet.” 

/

“Shiro, what are you doing?” 

Shiro looks over his shoulder at Pidge, a determined look on his face. “Keith is out there without power. We’re strongest when we’re all together, right? I’ve got to find him.” He can’t put to words the way it feels like something is trying to burst out of his chest. Maybe it’s his heart, but it’s making his head hurt, it’s pressure. Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know what it is, but his urgency to find Keith and bring him back to the castle is spiked.

He pushes his way through doorways and takes a perilous, dark trip down the corridors to Red’s hangar. It takes effort to pry the doors open, and he finds himself looking up at her. The particle barrier is down, her head hangs limp as if she’s sleeping, eyes dark. It chills him to the bone. 

“Don’t worry, Red. I’ll bring him back.” 

Shiro’s eyes scan the expanse of her bay until he finds what he’s looking for. His motorcycle, leaning on its kickstand. The only thing in this ship that isn’t powered by its quintessence. The key is still in the ignition and he holds his breath as he turns it.

She roars to life as if she too is a lion.

/

Keith is bodily moved, levered upward with his head braced on one shoulder as they get up off the ground. The arm around him is solid and unyielding, bracing him against the way his knees want to be liquid beneath him. When Keith’s feet are planted solidly on the ground, Shiro’s larger frame still blocks the sun, setting his face into shadow. His hands are on Keith’s forearms now. 

“You can do this, I know you can. We’ll come back for the speeder when we have power.”

Keith finds what he should on Shiro’s face, a flicker of concern, thick brows knotting together in question. The grip on Keith tightens. Beyond them, there's a rumble, very faint and hard to trace, but whatever it is, it's getting closer.

"Keith? We need to go back. Is something wrong? Should I carry you?"

"No," he grumbles, staggering to his feet and shoving himself away, wrenching his shoulder as Shiro tries to steady him. 

It's not just his concussed head, something is wrong. The motions of affection are there, the expressions of concern, but he can feel how hollow they are. 

"I can walk myself," he tries to cover his trepidation with stubbornness, like he's just too proud to accept the help, though in truth he just needs to buy himself a little space while he figures out what the hell is going on.

Patience. He can't tip the fact that he knows something is off before he has a chance to run. Maybe the black speeder will come back online and he can take it--

The speeder. It was lost months ago, the shock of seeing it crop up on his radar speeding toward him was what distracted him just before his own went down. He had left Shiro in the castle with the others and the lions. Sure, that corroborated how he knew all the systems were down, but not how he had reached Keith on a speeder that had been lost.

If he had doubts before, they've evaporated in an instant. This is not Shiro.

Mismatched hands lower hesitantly, and the concern is right where it should be. It’s almost perfect.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Keith. We’re a long way from the castle. If you pass out, I’ll just end up carrying you anyway. Let me help you.” 

He reaches out to take hold of Keith again, insistent.

That hand that should feel like a comfort feels like a fucking trap closing around Keith's wrist and he jerks away, half-spinning and stumbling in his desperation not to let that thing touch him again. The effort proves too much for him though and he can only just see the body moving to catch him through the dark sweeping over him as he crumples.

"You're not..." he croaks, infuriatingly limp once again, "Shiro." In that last word it's half declaration, half plea for the true Shiro to come for him.

The shadowed features hovering over him smile, and that smile is most definitely not Shiro. Too much teeth and not enough heart. 

“Well, aren’t you clever.”

He fights, but that smile and the dread it conjures follow Keith into the black.


	13. A Glitch in the Matrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running... heavy breathing, sounds of feet crashing to the ground, skidding, gaining traction. The sound is disorienting because Keith himself isn't moving, but it's happening around him. Wait, that's not running. No...he knows that sound. Flesh on flesh, the sounds of two people coming together with bodily force, the grunts on impact. It's a fight.

Running... heavy breathing, sounds of feet crashing to the ground, skidding, gaining traction. The sound is disorienting because Keith himself isn't moving, but it's happening around him. Wait, that's not running. No...he knows that sound. Flesh on flesh, the sounds of two people coming together with bodily force, the grunts on impact. It's a fight. 

The world comes together in a black-rimmed, hazy sort of un-focus and only a little bit of shifting puts the two opponents into perspective. It's like seeing double. Dark-clad figures of solid stature and a shock of white at their foreheads. Going at one another again and again, fists flying, hitting the ground and getting back up again. It's hard to tell who's who....who's winning.

_ Get up _ , Keith tells himself, like just thinking it angrily enough will give him the balance to stand.  _ Help him. _

He pries his eyes open in spite of the sinking sun burning the scene in front of him into charcoal silhouettes against the red-orange sky. This isn't a fight he can enter and win, but with some luck and adrenaline on his side he might be able to intervene just long enough to give _his_  Shiro the upper hand. His blade is gone but he stirs to rise nevertheless and--

_ Patience _ , the memory of a deeper voice insists. He feels caught like a lion in a cage by that word, prowling against the necessity for restraint so he doesn't waste his opportunity to strike. 

They're both dripping blood like rubies into the sand as they collide again and again, but one has obviously gained the upper hand and is smiling like it's a game as he watches his desperate opponent tire. The blood catches the low sun and makes his gleaming arm look rusted and Keith knows who to target now.

Shiro lands a sickening punch across the imposter's jaw and with that it has apparently had enough of its doppelgänger. It catches Shiro up by the throat and dark, synthetic fingertips start to burn with quintessence.

_ Go _ .

Keith scrambles up and launches himself onto the imposter's back, drags his head back by a fistful of hair, and uses the only weapon his has left, sinking his teeth in hard enough that blood bursts over his tongue as their opponent reels off balance and drops his half-strangled victim. 

"Shiro, NOW."

Shiro's head is spinning from pain and lack of oxygen, the surprise of Keith's sudden ambush stealing his breath further. But he knows better than to waste the opening, even as the Husk wearing his face and a robot arm wildly tosses Keith off its back and to the ground. Shiro surges up, delivering an elbow hard into its solar plexus. As it doubles over, he grabs it by the head and brings his knee into its throat. The last hit is to the back of its head and it lays still on the ground.

Shiro stands over the crumpled body, breath coming in shallow, wet gasps. Injuries of his own are swelling and oozing so maybe it's his imagination that makes the phantom aches of his opponent's wounds hurt on him just as much. He only gives the Husk another moment of his attention before staggering over to Keith and sinking to his knees beside him to see if he's still conscious. 

"Say something. Please, Keith."  _ Let me know you're okay _ . He reaches to wipe the blood away from his mouth, grimacing at the sight of it. That monster on Keith's tongue, he can't stand it.  _ But that monster was me... _ "Keith..."

Keith follows Shiro's voice back, as honest a pull as true north and gentle, just like his fingertips on Keith's face. He tries for small breaths after having the wind knocked out of him for the second time today but still comes around with a wet little cough. 

"Shiro." His fingers flex, looking for some piece of the black paladin to hold onto, to keep him close.

He finds Shiro's hand, willingly and needy as it's pushed into Keith's. 

"I'm here. It's okay now."

The words are dubious. What just happened is not okay, and the way they both drip blood and wheeze is not okay. But they're together and their mutual opponent is down, so that has to count for something. Shiro is still shaken. He sees his own face with demonic glowing eyes when he blinks and it makes him think of nightmares he hasn't had yet or maybe he has but he doesn't remember.

Keith fades out, eyes rolling back. It's only a second before he jerks back, nails sinking into the back of Shiro's hand like an anchor in the sand. He has had  _ enough _ of losing time to the black.

"We can't turn our backs on him."  _ He'll hurt us _ . "We can't let him go." He's dizzy and earnest and not sure how much of what he's thinking is actually coming out of his babbling mouth. "We have to find out what he is."

Shiro's frown is deep, but he nods too. He knows what they have to do, and no matter how much he hates it, he'll follow through. He turns his attention back to Keith, sliding an arm more fully around his waist. "I've got you. We're going to sit you on the bike and I'll get the speeder and that thing tethered to the back."

Keith hesitates only a moment before deciding the help he was about to offer would be more of a hinderance and shutting his mouth, acquiescing to being helped up into Shiro's bike. His attempts to force his way through the dizziness by focusing on the relief that will come with being able to slump forward against Shiro's back soon are iffy at best, and he sways in the seat to maintain enough stimulation to stay awake.

Shiro gets Keith as steady as he's going to get on that bike before he turns away again. The last thing he wants to do is leave Keith alone but they certainly can't leave the Husk behind either. He swallows back bile and makes the decision to tether Keith's speeder instead of the black one. He digs in one of the saddlebags to find something that would even remotely work. He rigs the speeder to the bike and then debates how he's going to bind the Husk. He crouches down in front of it and is about to start tearing fabric for bindings but he stops.    
  
His face. Cheek pressed to the ground and dirtied up from the fight. The same pink scar stretches across the nose and an identical shock of white at his brow. Good god, it's like looking into a mirror and seeing something so familiar and yet frightening in the glass.    
  
_ What if he's the one they're looking for? What if it isn't me? _ his stomach sinks like a rock, heart hammering in his chest. He's dizzy now, scared.  _ What if I'm the one that doesn't belong? _

It's hard to tell if time seems to be dragging because every throb of Keith's head feels like an eon or if it's really just taking too long for Shiro to come back to him. If he doesn't get the husk secured soon they won't get him back to the ship before he wakes up, and Keith's not feeling overly confident about their odds in round two. He braces both feet against the ground to keep from toppling the bike as he cranes around for a glimpse of Shiro's progress.   
  
He's frozen, trapped by the doubtless unsettling sense of detachment that must come with seeing one’s own body from the outside.    
  
"Shiro," Keith coughs. He doesn't stir. "SHIRO."

Keith's voice snaps him back out of the moment, but Shiro is a lot paler than he was moments ago. It's not entirely from the fight.    
  
"Y-yeah, I'm here." He lets out a morbid chuckle at that. He and his double are so very present in this moment. 

"Yes, you are," Keith confirms, relieved to see Shiro shaken from his trance. He keeps talking to keep Shiro distracted from looking at that face and falling back under the spell of his uncertainty:   
  
Shiro takes a deep breath of the planet's musty air and works on tearing strips of the Husk's clothing to use as bindings. Rudimentary at best, likely would be nothing effective without the thing being unconscious. But it isn't like he carried around rope or handcuffs in his saddle bag back on his old planet. It'll have to do.

"Good, that's good. Almost done and we can go home. Let's go home."

Shiro's breathing starts to match the cadence of Keith's words. He gets the speeder as secured as it's going to be and makes sure his double is just as secured. He swallows hard and returns to Keith.    
  
"Guess who's wearing his helmet on the way back, he teases, leaning in to kiss his forehead before handing Keith his helmet again.

Keith's eyes roll a little but he offers a lopsided little grin to go with his nod before jamming it down over his head.    
  
"S'heavy," he complains as Shiro takes his place astride the bike in front of him before letting his head thump forward between Shiro's shoulder blades. There's not a hint of self-consciousness as he winds around Shiro's back, tucking his legs in close along his thighs. The tension still rides right in his shoulders with the Husk behind them, but sanctuary is in sight and the relief, while perhaps premature, shows in the way their bodies fit together snug.

Shiro drives fast. That's not unusual for him, but he's never really felt the stakes run this high before. He's carrying the most precious cargo as well as the most dangerous, and his heart is in his throat. It's fortunate that across the cracked, dry ground, he can still see his tread and skid marks, leading him on the way back to the castle where they can sort all of this out. Keith's body gets heavier against him, and Shiro's got his lower lip trapped between his teeth.

Safety first, safety first he tells himself as he watches the path ahead, but still remembers to glance in his mirrors. It's laughable that there would be any sort of traffic to come up behind or beside him, but old habits die hard. He comes up over a rise and he can see where the castle had landed before this terrible afternoon had taken place. once more, he checks his mirrors—and sees a flicker of movement somewhere to the left of Keith. Shiro barks out a curse as the body on top of the broken speeder starts to move. The body that's wearing his face and pretending to be him around someone he cares about. He considers stopping to knock him back out, but with Keith unconscious against his back, he stands a better chance of getting more hands to help him if he keeps going for the castle. It's so close ahead of him and yet... and yet, the Husk is moving quickly now. There's a flash of purple light, and from the mirrors, Shiro can see both hands are free.

"Shiro?"

"Keith, keep your head down, we're almost there."

Of course, Keith doesn't listen to him, catches the stricken look on Shiro's face and glances over his shoulder.

"Shiro, just keep driving. Faster." 

Keith reaches behind him, unsheathing the knife at the base of his spine. He keeps a death grip on Shiro's hip with the other hand and turns. Shiro hisses between his teeth and revs to full throttle, going faster than he's ever dreamed of going on this bike. Keith pulls back and swings down, jamming the knife into where the speeder is tethered to the back of the motorcycle. The force of the blow and the sudden snap of the bindings sends the speeder flipping back. Shiro watches in the mirror long enough to see both the little machine and its unwilling occupant go flying up and then hit the ground. By the time that thing recovers from the fling, they'll already be at the castle. Keith falls against Shiro again, breathing heavy, and there's a sensation of something warm and sticky between Shiro's shoulder blades. Panic really sets in, and Shiro tries to bring the speed back down to safe levels instead of going faster.

"Stay with me, Keith. Please."

He swings his way to the hangar doors he's pulled out of, just as he feels something inside him flare to life. It's the castle -- it's back online! He mutters some kind of thanks to the powers that be and kills the engine near one of the Red Lion's paws.

"Keith.  _ Keith _ !"


	14. Confrontation Confirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro puts a hand on the cool glass-metal of the pod and sags more heavily against it than he wants to. "I... Keith's injuries are from the power dying on his speeder, I think. He must have fallen off of it when the power went out."
> 
> "But what are your injuries from?" Pidge asks.

"Keith.  _ Keith _ !"

He doesn't answer and Shiro's panic is only burned back by adrenaline. He's surely not going to be able to help Keith if he doesn't focus. He kicks the stand down and eases off the motorcycle, careful to catch Keith in his arms before he could slide off and hit the floor. He vaguely remembers Hunk and Pidge chattering to him about healing pods, and thinks he really needs to get Keith to one of those quickly, and now is really not the time to worry about getting lost along the way. He'll pick a direction and go.

"Shiro? Shiro, are you back?" Someone calls to him from down one of the hallways.

"Lance! I'm back! You've gotta help me. Keith needs one of those pods."

He catches sight of Lance running to meet him, and Shiro does not like the wide-eyed horror written so plainly on his face. "I know, it's bad. You've gotta help me help him."

"This way!"

The way to the healing pods is a blur. Under duress, Shiro wouldn't be able to describe the path or how to get back to where he'd been even if he wanted to. It doesn't matter. What matters is helping Keith. Along the way, they've somehow collected the rest of the paladins, and all of them are making their way to the pods. As if they've done this before -- and Shiro worries that they have more than they should have -- they prepped the body suit, stripped Keith down so he could be put in it, and in less time than it should have and more time than Shiro would have liked, they got him up into the pod. By then, the Alteans had joined them and Coran was already working the controls.

"I'm right here," he whispers as the pod seals shut, and Keith goes awash in blue. Shiro sags away from it, and he can feel himself shaking now that the worst is over. Except...the worst really isn't over. That thing is still out there, and it's still got his face. It's got his everything. Shiro's trembling is starting to make his teeth hurt.

"Shiro!"

Allura. He wonders idly how long she's been trying to get his attention. Numbly, he turns away from Keith's face, the wicked gash in his forehead, and faces her. All of them are looking at him expectantly. They want to know what's happened -- and he doesn't want to tell them.

Hunk reaches out and touches his arm. "You got to him in time."

Shiro's breath sounds wet as it rushes out of him. He wonders if Hunk has always been able to know what to say when people need it. He can't remember it himself. Can that thing that they'd left behind remember the things that he can't? 

"Did we...did we launch?"

"Yes," Coran says, and his usual jubilant tone is dulled. "We thought it best to leave this planet alone for a while."

"The dry air was really bad for my skin too," Lance adds, crossing his arms.

Shiro puts a hand on the cool glass-metal of the pod and sags more heavily against it than he wants to. "I... Keith's injuries are from the power dying on his speeder, I think. He must have fallen off of it when the power went out."

"But what are _your_ injuries from?" Pidge asks. They're all so damn observant. Shiro had almost forgotten he'd even sustained any injuries. But as if those words have given them life, all the aches and lacerations begin making themselves known. The burns on his neck make him hot, perspiration beading on his forehead. God, those burns must look awful -- he doesn't focus on Keith when he looks at the pod this time, but rather his reflection on its surface -- the burns do look awful, and they're in the shape of hands. His knees start to fold but he stubbornly holds himself up.

"We were..." Shiro falters, takes a slow breath, tries again. "We were attacked."

"By what?" Allura demands. 

"I...I don't know, but he...it... it looked like me. And it...had that arm. The one that you all think I should have." The words tumbled quickly and in a strained whisper.

The paladins stare dumbfounded at him, but the only warning he gets from Allura is the flash of fear-fueled anger before he's shoved up against the pod. "Explain yourself!"

Even though he's been expecting this, dreading it even, the sudden shift of betrayal to him, mirroring painfully the betrayal he feels in himself, makes him angry too.

"What do you want to know?" he snaps. "Keith flipped his speeder when we lost power, and by the time I got to him, someone else was already there. He looks just like me, hell, he probably looks more like me than I do." He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice. This has become one of his nightmares, finding out that the 'real' him they'd all been looking for is actually out there, and that makes him nothing to them. He glances back at Keith, the one who believes in him even more than he believes in himself. How had he come to earn that trust?

"Shiro, it's okay." Hunk is trying again to reach him, his voice soothing to that angry beast that lurks all the way down to the core of him. "We've seen some pretty weird things since coming out here, so there's probably a logical explanation for what happened." His voice trembles, as if he doesn't entirely trust those words, because flying space cat robots isn't exactly logical where they come from. It doesn't stop him from trying for Shiro's sake. Shiro is actually grateful.

"A-anyway, Keith was trying to get away from him, but his injuries were getting in the way. So I...I got between them, and we fought." Shiro doesn't go into how he had felt like he was going to die when the Husk had him by the throat. He'd been afraid to die, and most especially terrified that the last thing he would see when he ran out of air was his own face with murder in his eyes. His hand drifts up to his neck, and he rubs it self-consciously. "Keith helped. I wouldn't have been able to take it down without him. That arm..."

"Yeah, it's pretty scary tech," Pidge pipes up, some compassion in her tone as well. "We've all seen it in action, and it's definitely something." Her brow furrows as she stares at Shiro. He can't tell if it's a sharp observation or an actual memory, but something about the way her expression is drawn and tight suggests she's trying to find an answer. A way to make all of this make  _ sense _ . Goodness knows Shiro is about to give up on that venture himself.

Allura's eased back to give him room to speak, but he can still tell she's dubious. He couldn't fault her for that, but now he wonders if he should be scared of what could happen to him on this ship if she decides she doesn't trust him. Deep down, Shiro is starting to feel a bone deep exhaustion. This isn't right.

"We need something conclusive," she finally says, slowly and with effort. "We had to go through layers of space time to find you because the Black Lion felt your quintessence on the planet Keith brought you from. That doesn't mean she couldn't be mistaken."

Coran holds up his hands. "What the princess is trying to say is that while there could be alternate realities where Shiro exists, that doesn't mean you have the quintessence to pilot a Lion."

Hunk shoots Coran a horrified look. "I don't think you're helping."

Lance, who has been quiet this entire time, just spreads his hands in a shrug. "Why don't you put him in a pod and find out?"

Everyone's heads slowly turn to him.

"What? The castle did an identity scan when we first got here, right? You've gotta have some kind of record of it, because the castle responded to us and so did our Lions. Why don't you just pop Shiro in a pod to be scanned, and heal up those bruises too, and we'll settle it once and for all."

"Good thinking, Blue Paladin!" Coran crows, clapping a hand on Lance's shoulder with an air of pride. "Surely it can't harm anything, right, Princess?"

Allura frowns, but she moves to the controls, calling up a second pod next to Keith's. "Let's see if this works."

Shiro rolls his shoulders, but the tension doesn't leave him. He can't help feeling like he's closer than ever to going back to Earth, and at this point he’s left without even the guiding compass of Keith’s reassurance. He takes a deep breath and steps inside, trying to flash them all a comforting smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. His world turns blue.

/

Shiro's first thought as he stumbles out of the pod, disoriented, is that it's cold. Lance catches him and rights him on his feet so he doesn't fall on his ass in front of everyone. It was almost like sleep, where the passage of time is vague. Everyone is still in the room where he'd left them, but most of them are now crowded around the control panel with Allura and Coran. Only Lance stands near the pod, sticking by Shiro's side while he cocks a brow at the others.

"Well? Is it good news?"

Shiro's glad he isn't the one who has to ask.

Allura has two screens up in front of her, both showing Shiro's basic shape and a lines of data he can't read. One picture has the arm, one does not. He holds his breath, afraid for the answer.

"You are really Shiro."

All of them let out a collective sigh of relief, and Lance slaps a palm to the middle of his back. "There, that's better. Looks like good ol' mullet can trust his instincts after all."

"Y-yeah." In spite of his racing heart, Shiro smiles faintly. This is the first time he's had more than just a vague hope, and he wonders why none of them thought of this sooner. Well, he knows why  _ he  _ hadn't. He moves to put a hand on Keith's pod. "Got some good news for you when you get out of there," he says.

"That was exhausting," Hunk announces. "Now that we're away from that planet and Shiro is really Shiro, I'm going to go work some magic in the kitchen. This deserves a victory feast!"

"I need to run some more diagnostics and try to figure out how there are two of you now," Allura says, still working at her control panel, pointedly not looking at him. "Maybe it's something in the arm that the Galra managed to clone."

"Well, that's a terrifying prospect I never want to hear you say again," Hunk says on his way out the door with the others. "You comin', Shiro?"

Shiro glances one more time at Keith's pod. There's really nothing more he can do for him here except stand vigil. Celebrating sounds like a great idea, except there is still one more missing piece he needs to put together. Maybe now that the ship has confirmed who he is, his Lion will too. "I'm going to go visit the Black Lion again. Maybe this time, she'll want to listen to me." He's actually excited by the idea. As if being confident in the results of the test means that he can be confident in his identity as the black paladin. He wants so badly for it to be true. 

"Good luck, Shiro!" Coran calls after him.

He wishes he didn't still believe he's going to need it.


	15. One More Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of that silence fills up the space after his words have stopped bouncing off the walls. He wonders if the ache in his chest is hurt or anger or resignation. It’s probably all of those things. He closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing under control before he says goodbye. Each time he has to leave this hangar with no resolution, it chips away at him even more. Less than an hour ago, he had been delighted by the absurd notion that he is exactly who he’s supposed to be, and now he can’t help feeling like it’s still somehow a lie. That he is somehow a lie.
> 
> “Please,” he whispers without realizing it, “help me.”

_ “You are really Shiro.” _

Those words aren’t as comforting as they should be. Shiro makes his way to the Black Lion’s hangar. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s gone back to her, how much he’s tried to connect. All he has to grasp of their so-called bond is the vague sensation always in the back of his mind that leads him to her, and the anxious anger that he can’t reach anything else. The doors seal shut behind him, and he stands before Black once more, the metallic quiet of the hangar’s walls surrounding him. It almost feels like they’re closing in on him, along with a ticking clock he can’t explain. 

Shiro stares up for a while, his mind racing.  _ You are really Shiro _ .

“Hey,” he finally says. “I know we’ve been through this song and dance before. But I’m not giving up. They said –” he pauses and licks his lips. This is so absurd on his tongue, but he pushes forward. “They said I really am Shiro. My quintessence is right, everything is  _ right _ . Keith said you might need time. I respect that. But something happened today that... I don't know what to think of it. If I'm not your paladin, if where I really belong is back on my home planet, then I understand. I've gotten to do something that no one else on Earth has ever done, and I'm always going to be grateful. But if there's a chance that the pilot you used to know is somewhere inside me, please. You don't even have to let me in, I just...want to know what it feels like to see you awake. If you know anything about who I am, I'd do anything to see it." 

More of that silence fills up the space after his words have stopped bouncing off the walls. He wonders if the ache in his chest is hurt or anger or resignation. It’s probably all of those things. He closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing under control before he says goodbye. Each time he has to leave this hangar with no resolution, it chips away at him even more. Less than an hour ago, he had been delighted by the absurd notion that he is exactly who he’s supposed to be, and now he can’t help feeling like it’s still somehow a lie. That  _ he _ is somehow a lie.

“Please,” he whispers without realizing it, “help me.”

The floor rumbles – no, that’s not the floor, that’s--! Shiro’s eyes snap open to find that the Black Lion’s has engaged. The thrum rattling his ribcage isn’t the hangar or the ship, it’s  _ her _ . He jumps to his feet to see her eyes glowing bright like Red’s had at the edge of the dried up lake back on Earth. He can feel her, bright and alive, a warm spot in his chest. He wishes Keith could be here to share the moment, but Shiro can only imagine how good it’ll feel to greet him out of the healing pod with good news like this. 

The Black Lion lowers her head to him for the first time, and offers him entry into the cockpit. Shiro is so overjoyed, he nearly stumbles in his dash up the ramp, throwing himself into the chair with eager thank yous rolling from his mouth like a mantra. The sense of familiarity still hasn't left him by the time he settles in the seat. Just like they had in Keith's lion, the systems start to activate, screens going live around him, controls lighting up on the panels before him. The symbols are still alien to him; he can't read what they say, but the more he looks at him, the more that feeling deep in his bones tells him he really doesn't have to. He can feel the Black Lion at his core, and it's as if she's filling in all his missing pieces.

He takes a deep breath as he reaches for the thrusters and closes his eyes—

The world shifts. A spiral down into darkness with only his bond to Black keeping Shiro from panic. If this is what he has to endure…

_ A fleet appeared out of nowhere. Battle cruisers locked onto their lions, but they were so close to the wormhole.  _

_ Not close enough. Ion canons are started charging, fighters were launched. The Red Lion wasn’t even operational yet. They’d never make it through before taking more damage, or worse. Shiro had a split second to consider his options, adrenaline burning off the pain and making his senses feel clearer than ever. He knew what he had to do. _

_ “Hold course,” he barked into the comms to Pidge and Keith, propelling himself out of his seat. He staggered, the wound in his side burning like acid under his skin, down to his bones. “I’m going to draw their fire.” _

_ “What? No! Shiro, wait!” Keith yelled. _

_ “The castle is just on the other side, Shiro,” Pidge added. “We can make it!” _

_ Shiro knew better. He left the cockpit and slipped down into the bay where his cruiser lay waiting. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. If Red takes a hit from one of those canons, you’re a sitting duck. Just give me a few minutes.”  _

_ Before waiting for any kind of agreement or approval, Shiro launched the speeder to the sound of Keith screaming for him to stop… _

Shiro’s mind hovers on the edge of this dream like he’s watching it both inside and out. These are the things he’s forgotten, the things that will connect him to the Shiro Keith knows. His stomach is heavy with dread and residual fear, but he hangs on tight to these visions. They’re all the memory he has right now, and he won’t lose them again.

_ …Shiro had been here before. More often than he’d like to think about, honestly. Flat on his back with angry purple lights shining down on him like a lab rat. All around him, energy crackled and filled his nose with the acrid smell of life walking the razor’s edge of death. The druids called that quintessence, but it wasn’t like the quintessence he’d come to feel in the castle. He knew the difference now. He’d only just managed to escape the witch’s grasp, and he hated how quickly he’d been drawn right back.  _

_ He had failed them again. _

_ Around him, the druids were talking in hushed whispers.  _

_ ‘We cannot destroy it utterly. The price is too steep.’  _

_ ‘Yet we must be rid of it.’ _

_ ‘Cast it far away. Keep our weapon, throw away its weakness.’ _

_ Her face appeared over him, sour. Angry? Whatever emotion was hiding beneath her unreadable features, it wasn’t friendly, it didn’t bode well for him.  _

_ “We are done playing games, Champion. Across the universe, they will never find you.” _

_ Shiro’s heart seized. He believed her. The other druids came to stand around the observation table, their eerie masks peering at him intently. The sight of them all around him made him dizzy, getting hazier by the minute with the bright lights above him. Haggar held out her hand, and all the quintessence, both inside him and surrounding him, flared to life. He bit back on the first scream, but that power started to feel like claws digging into his ribcage, pulling, cracking him open and tearing out something he could never get back.  _

_ He blacked out… _

_...brand new memories flowed over the existence of Takashi Shirogane like lava over lush foliage. It smothered out the colors and life he had already grown and lived with pain and left a black, smoldering shell around the Kerberos pilot, the Champion, the Black paladin. Everything became both simpler and more difficult. His alcoholic mother, his desire to keep the peace, the way threw himself into work as he got older, how he still dreamed of the stars without ever knowing how he could get there. That was when Keith had found him. Those hooded figures – the druids – had taken him and thrown him to this life. And he was separated from the things he needed the most. There was another part of him out there, and he had met it, touched it, tried to destroy it.  _

_ It had been that Husk with his face. And it wasn’t just a replica of him, it  _ was  _ him, with the incorruptible parts that couldn’t be turned to the evils of the empire cored out. There was a pull to it, he’d felt it out on that planet and it… it… _

Shiro falls hard, like landing on thick glass, cool to the touch and filled with stars. Those same stars fill an endless night sky above him. There’s no sign of the castle ship, and there’s no sign of the Black Lion. Fear grips him as he pushes to sit up, but he can still feel her there with him. As if she’s all around him, as if she is the stars. It’s eerie, but as his heart pounds, he tries to remember that he needs to trust her. 

“Well, this fight will be a little fairer, now won’t it?”

The sound of Shiro’s own voice in this place is unnerving, downright terrifying, especially when it has so much malice.

Shiro slowly turns, and sure enough, the Husk is there. Standing in this place that only had a moment to feel safe, like a sanctuary, as if he has as much right to be there as Shiro. All things considered, he’s half right to feel that way. Shiro draws up his shoulders, holds up his hands.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You made the mistake of coming here. They said I was the right weapon, that you were gone forever. And here you are to take away what’s mine.” 

“It was mine to begin with. It was ours,” Shiro protests. The splitting feel in his ribcage has returned. 

“And when I destroy you, it will just be mine.”

The Husk barrels forward, his whole right arm lit up in that sick purple light from his memory. Shiro braces himself for impact.


	16. The Astral Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We have to help him. Please.” 
> 
> Keith can’t be sure whether it’s his thought or hers, he just knows something is wrong--something more urgent than the fact that Shiro is coming unstitched from the body they sewed him into. Because of course, not--the fucked up narrative of their lives wouldn’t offer any of them a slow death with a chance at a cure when it could blindside them instead. 
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **I tried to help. I miscalculated.**  
>  _

Coming out of a healing pod always feels like waking up out of a hypothermic nap. It probably should be a refreshing sensation, but he always came out feeling vaguely sticky in a scrubbed-past-clean-to-raw sort of way.    
  
Keith has learned to slump backward as he comes out of the fog--better to wobble into the back of the pod than fall out face-first. This time, he whacks his elbow and curses with his first waking breath. He’s still rubbing it as he climbs out of the pod when he remembers how he got there and starts scrambling.

  
“Shi--” he spots Allura, her back turned to him as she sorts the shimmery blue files hanging before her with decisive swipes of elegant fingers, before he can finish calling for him. “Allura, did Shiro make it back?”

Allura’s chuckle is soft, but it doesn’t sound like her heart is entirely in it. “How do you think you got back here?” she teases him. She stares at the screens only a moment longer, then turns to Keith. Any trace of amusement is gone within seconds. “How is your head?”

“Fuzzy,” Keith admits, his intent gaze going distant as he sifts through the frayed edges of their fight with that--thing. He swallows and focuses carefully on Allura, already on the defensive lest this new development begin casting doubt.    
  
“Something’s out there, Allura.” He scrubs at his eye; Shiro surely already told them. He hates playing catch up. “It looks like him but it’s...empty.”

“I’m afraid there is more bad news than that, Keith,” she tells him. “Because of that something, Shiro is dying.”

_ What? _

Keith’s jaw hangs open for a long moment before he realizes the word never made it out.    
  
“Dying?” he croaks, almost accusing--he was never very good at sparing the messenger.

Her expression is grim as she nods. “Even the castle has limitations to what it can fix and diagnose, and what my readings tell me is that his body and quintessence do not align. It’s as if Shiro’s being is stitched into the body he walks in. Meanwhile, I have reason to believe that what you encountered back on Shumazee is his real body under the control of the Galra. That is why it has the prosthetic and Shiro does not. When they took him that day, the Galra went through a lot of trouble to make sure that Shiro’s quintessence would not stand in the way of Zarkon and the Black Lion. Even now, Shiro’s quintessence is reaching for his body, and the longer they are apart, the less chance there is of us stopping that pull from damaging him beyond repair. I suspect that is part of the reason the Black Lion has not opened her bond to him. She knows there’s something missing, and without that, he is not strong enough to contest Zarkon’s bond. I…” She folds her hands in front of her, hanging her head. “I do not know how to fix this, Keith. I’m sorry.”

The silence that hangs between them rings into a deafening white noise. He can’t breathe, can’t  _ think.  _ It feels like the airlock just opened. He has to reach out and brace himself on her steady shoulder.   
  
_ As many times as it takes.  _ Keith had promised. He  _ promised,  _ but this is one distance he can’t cross to find Shiro again, which means he can’t let it happen.   
  
“I’ll fix it,” he hisses, something feline twisting past the fear and grief and settling on the sort of rage that gets shit done. “I’ll make  _ her  _ fix it.”

Allura sighs. “I hope you can. He is with the Black Lion now. You should go to him. I can feel her stirring at the heart of the castle. She knows.”

/

Keith coughs, doubled over and pounding his fist into the hangar doors to get Black to open up--his body hadn’t been ready for the exertion so soon after the pod, but that’s not what makes him so sick. No, it’s the way the lights in Black’s hangar are throbbing when the doors slide open to drench him in a slick, oily purple glow where blue-white light normally illuminates every corner. This--is not at all what he expected.   
  


He can feel her again--she’s _worried._ __  
__  
“Where is he?” he begs. Suddenly, in spite of the way he had spit his accusations at her only hours ago, they’re back on the same side and that’s _Shiro’s_ side. He leans into the way his lungs burn with the effort to sprint to her and slaps his open palms to one enormous claw like physical contact will give him better insight.   
  
“We have to help him. Please.”   
  
Keith can’t be sure whether it’s his thought or hers, he just knows something is wrong--something more urgent than the fact that Shiro is coming unstitched from the body they sewed him into. Because of course, not--the fucked up narrative of their lives wouldn’t offer any of them a slow death with a chance at a cure when it could blindside them instead.   
  
**_I tried to help. I miscalculated._**   
  
For the first time since Shiro went missing all those months ago, Keith sees the Black Lion move. Her jaw is hardly open enough to give him clearance to get in before he’s scrambling up the ramp, searching every nook and cranny as he goes. He needn’t have.   
  
“Shiro?”  
  
He’s sitting in the cockpit, a lost king returned to his throne, but something-- __everything is off. Keith approaches cautiously, even as the Black Lion urges him forward. Shiro could almost be sleeping, but for the way his short fingernails are cracking as he digs them in against the armrests. He’s breathing as hard as Keith is and he looks...desperate. Even when Keith used to wake up, knife drawn from under his pillow, to the sound of Shiro’s nightmares of the arena, Shiro had never looked quite like this.   
  
“Shiro,” Keith calls again, dropping to his knees at Shiro’s feet. He reaches up and it almost feels like Black would be holding her breath if she had any to hold when he pauses. Is this...is this what Allura meant? Is this what happens when a soul is pulled out of its body? “Shiro, you have to wake up.”  
  
Keith’s fingertips touch Shiro’s temple, and he falls.

/

Keith feels like a falling star, only there doesn’t seem to be any atmosphere here to burn him up on entry. He can feel the gravity, a smooth, round thing pulling at every side of him to exaggerate every movement as he hurtles toward a glassy plane. He’s weightless, or infinitely dense, or maybe he’s nothing at all. It’s difficult to decide.   
  
**_This is the Astral Plane. Shiro is here. His vessel is here._** __  
  
The Black Lion touches his mind and he understands; he can see the whole narrative laid out like a map. She meant to reunite them. Keith hadn’t understood what she knew about Shiro’s condition and pushed her and now--well, they’re not playing as nicely together as she hoped they would when she reached out for the scrap of Shiro’s quintessence that had been left behind and dragged it here with the hope of making her Paladin whole again. Keith had arrived and she pulled him in, somewhat desperately. **_Help him, cub_** **.**   
  
He braces for impact and strikes the starry plane with a bassy thud that goes looking for a surface off of which to echo. It finds nothing but empty, endless space, and is drowned out by the nothing. He seems them, Shiro and the broken, hollow bit of him the Galra left to drive his body like another ship in their fleet.   
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Shiro insists, his arms crossed over his face. The Husk’s heavy blow knocks him to his knees and sends him rolling to avoid the boot about to drop onto his chest.   
  
“That’s why you’re going to lose,” the Husk hisses, a savage smile twisting Shiro's face into the ruthless thing the Galra always wanted him to be.

 

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Keith roars, vaulting toward them and smashing into the Husk’s side to send him splaying away from Shiro, buying them a moment at least to regroup. 

Shiro blinks at Keith's sudden appearance, but the surprise doesn't last long. There's a rueful sort of relief to finding him here in the Black Lion's dwelling. His eyes say all the  _ how did I know you'd come for me? _ his lips didn't have time to say. He can't afford to let the Husk get the advantage on either of them, and at the same time, he still doesn't want to cause it harm. 

  
“I will  _ not,”  _ it says, spitting a wad of blood and wiping its mouth on its sleeve, “be shackled to the agony of his soul  _ yanking _ on me anymore!” the Husk points at Shiro menacingly, looking at him with disgust in his eyes, like dead flesh that needs amputating.    
  
It hurts, Keith realizes. The Husk is in  _ pain _ .    
  
"There has to be a better way!" Shiro shouts again, as if sheer volume alone will drive home the reason his fists refuse to. "We aren't supposed to be like this! Everything you have is mine, and everything that's mine is yours! Surely you have to know that!"

“You’re right...we aren’t supposed to be like this,” the Husk concedes, but almost before the words have reached them, his hand ignites in a blaze of ultraviolet light and he’s running at them--between the two of them, Shiro got the lion’s share of the mercy. “There should only be one!”

Keith follows Shiro’s lead and moves defensively who knows if they’ll be able to reunite the two disjointed pieces if they hurt him. Still, he can’t help thinking the best defense is a good offense, and moves to sweep the Husk’s legs out from under him. He flips neatly over them, but the electric arc of his outstretched palm misses the target he was clearly intending to make of Shiro’s throat.    
  
The Husk rages against them and Keith realizes just how much Shiro held back in their training sessions, but between the two of them, the blows it lands against Shiro are glancing.    
  
“Get out of my way, kitten,” it coos at him, mimicking the tenderness of his lover’s voice. “Get out of my way and once he’s gone I’ll hurt you just how you like it, hmm?”

Shiro sees red. He charges past Keith and takes his first swing. It’s all the Husk can do to dart back before Shiro’s fist can plow into his jaw. He doesn’t even take the time to feel bad that he may have just tipped his hand about which buttons are the right ones to push. If anyone can’t tell that he’ll tear down anything for Keith, they haven’t been paying attention. 

“I’m the one you’re after. Keep your eyes on me so we can settle this once and for all.  _ I’m  _ really Shiro, and you’re part of me! I’m not going to let you hurt what we love the most!”

The Husk’s head turns, unsettlingly slowly, from Keith to Shiro and back. 

For Keith, it feels like it’s happening in slow motion. He sees the realization dawning in the Husk’s face and  _ knows  _ what’s coming. He’s the new target, and Shiro will put himself right in the path of destruction. 

There’s an inevitability to the Husk’s attacks, regardless of who it’s focused on. If Keith had never shown up, it would have chipped away at Shiro’s defenses until he either fell or started fighting back to save his own skin. Having Keith arrive to ‘save’ him only expedites what the Husk sees as the only logical outcome of being here in this place with the other half of itself. The difference between the Galra-constructed mind and Shiro’s true soul is that it’s been taught that Shiro stands in its way, and Shiro knows they aren’t meant to be separated, much less trying to destroy one another. But now he’s angry and scared, and he’s fighting back with the same desperation he had back on Shumazee.

“Shiro,  _ Shirowait-- _ !” Keith tries to hold Shiro back, to keep his martyr’s heart out of the way of the imminent threat.

It’s like watching him roll out of Black’s cargo bay on his speeder all over again; inevitable, unstoppable. 

The Husk swings at Keith, and Shiro is between them before Keith can scream. 

The Husk draws its hand back, and it’s dripping not with blood, but starstuff. Dark like the night sky and dusted with with diamonds. The astral plane shakes with the force of the Black Lion’s roar as Shiro crumples into Keith’s arms. It only spares a fraction of the horror at seeing Shiro go down, and the fragile dwelling erupts into pain and Black’s heaven-touched fury.

The deafening white noise in Keith's head is back as if trying to block out the unacceptable, and he can’t hear himself barking Shiro’s name between sobs at first. He doesn’t spare a glance for the Husk. The Black Lion has pushed it out before it can do any more harm to either of her paladins. 

“You can’t do this to me again, Shiro, you-- _ please,”  _ he begs, shaking him too hard to try to keep him conscious. “You always do this,” he sobs, because with that truth he will always be defeated and the sorrow outweighs the anger right now. He bows his head to press into Shiro’s shoulder.  “Please stop leaving me.”

“You...believed me,” Shiro tells him, his smile so warm in its sincerity. His voice is wet and thick, words and breath caught in in broken lungs. “You’ll always know, won’t you? It so happens...sunshine has a fearful memory.” He reaches up and slides his hand into Keith’s hair. The pressure is weak at best, but he needs Keith’s eyes on him. “Listen...Kit...it’s not...it can’t end here. You know this had to happen right? I’m going to ask you to find me...one more time.”

“Wh--” Keith searches his face, but the Black Lion is the one who supplies a silent answer. Releasing Shiro’s quintessence here will allow her to reunite him with his body--wherever it may be. Keith clenches his jaw and nods once, ever the faithful. “As many times as it takes, Shiro.”

Black rumbles like thunder in his chest, and her power swells up around them. The stars are everywhere now, the brightest where Shiro’s soul had touched hers -- and Keith’s. They dance as if they’re an hourglass in reverse, twisting and pulling themselves back to the sky in which they truly belong, leaving a whisper of absolute adoration and trust as a breath of clean air in Keith’s lungs. The first staggering gasp as he wakes in the Black Lion’s empty cockpit with a promise on his lips.

_ As many times as it takes _ .


	17. One Body, One Mind, One Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's dreams are vibrant. Black and white, color, movement, sound, familiar voices and a terrible anxiousness in his gut mixed with a sense of _belonging_. It's strange; he feels like too many things inside of him are clamoring for control, and he just wants to sleep. He struggles against his dreams, struggles against himself.

Shiro's dreams are vibrant. Black and white, color, movement, sound, familiar voices and a terrible anxiousness in his gut mixed with a sense of _belonging_. It's strange; he feels like too many things inside of him are clamoring for control, and he just wants to sleep. He struggles against his dreams, struggles against himself.

"Easy there," a voice he's never heard before says to him.

That does it. Shiro snaps awake, and would have bolted upright were it not for the restraints holding him down. He's back there again, back in that place he knows well enough to hate with every fiber of his being. Already he's thinking about how he can escape; he still hasn't remembered how he did it the first time. He just remembers the crash to Earth, the way the needle jabbed into his arm when the Garrison wouldn't listen to him. No, wait. He remembers that he should be waking up in a tiny room. Isn't it almost time to go to work? His stomach rolls and he feels nauseous. "Keith," slips out of his mouth before he can think about it, and as if his mind is split down the middle, he remembers waking up to Keith's worried face in a tiny desert shack right before he recalls standing at the edge of a dried up lake with a beautiful Red Lion lying within. He squeezes his eyes shut. "Wh-what's going on?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" That voice again.

Shiro makes himself look, turns his head to see a Galra with striking features, silver-white streaked with purple and tufted ears flickering with interest in his direction. He's been in this lab before, he knows that much, but he doesn't remember that face at all.

"That's...actually a really difficult question for me right now," he admits warily.

This Galra wears the armor of a Lieutenant -- how does he know that? -- and has none of the malice or greedy interest that most of them do when they get up close and personal with...with...

The Champion.

Shiro sucks in his breath. He _remembers_.

"Do your best." The Galra circles the table, a knife with a glowing sigil balanced in one hand.

Old instincts kick up fast, and attention remains mostly on the weapon. He's braced for a fight, even if his restraints make resistance to whatever this one has planned futile. He breathes in and smells that nasty rotten-sweet scent of Galra quintessence. He digs back into his muddled mind. Somewhere in there, he has to know how he got back here. He's so tired of returning here at a disadvantage. He can't help hoping for the day when he can destroy it with his bare hands. "I shouldn't tell you anything at all," he begins, watching how the purple lights caught the edge of the blade as the Galra palms the hilt. "There was a fight. I was... fighting myself..."

_...it hurt so much. Metal fingers, curled into a heavy, blazing fist, had punched right beside his breastbone, searing flesh, breaking skin, tearing into him. Shiro coughed blood onto the steel and crumpled. Keith...Keith was screaming..._

Cold sweat breaks out on Shiro's forehead, and he reflexively looks down at his chest. Nothing is there except his...uniform. The knot forming in his gut is crawling it's way up to get stuck in his throat. He's wearing a Galra uniform, and not just any kind, it's the same one the Husk had been wearing when he appeared on the astral plane with Shiro and Black.

"What--what have you done?"

"What are you?" the Galra asks, stepping closer. His blade hovers close to one manacled wrist.

Shiro looks down and sees his prosthetic, the one that's been missing for :: _all his life_ :: several months is right there, as if it had never been missing in the first place. "I..." _I don't know..._ "I am...Shiro." His voice gains strength as he speaks, the words finally taste right. "I am the Black Paladin of Voltron." He meets the lieutenant's glowing eyes with determination. If he gets just a little closer, he will try for the knife, he _will_ get back to Keith and the others--

"Good." The Galra laughs, a low husky sound, and Shiro learns quickly that he doesn't have to steal the knife to get free. The Galra cuts first one restraint, then makes his way around the observation table to the others until both wrists and ankles are free. "Very good. You're exactly who you need to be." He offers his hand to Shiro to help him down. "Hurry, you don't have much time, and I can't help you once you're beyond this room."

Shiro is unsteady on his feet for the first few seconds, but the prospect of freedom is way too tempting to keep him down. "Why are you helping me?" he asks. He can't explain why this feels familiar to him. Is this one of the memories he keeps trying to go back to?

Another of those laughs leaves the Galra's throat. "I wonder if you were like this before," he muses. "I'm Thace. You've still got a lot of work ahead of you, Black Paladin of Voltron. You'd best be getting out of here. I'm sure you can find your way to a pod without getting yourself caught again, right?" Thace's ears flicker back, and he leans in as if he's about to share a secret. "As a leader and a fighter, you're the hope of the universe. Or something like that. The last guy that was here probably said it a lot better than I could, but there you go." He engages the door to the lab and peers out. "By the way, you might want to have your resident hacker investigate your arm. No telling what you might find. Oh, and the Blade of Marmora is with you. Now we just have to figure out how to get you back. Again."

Shiro gets his bearings, picks his jaw back up. In spite of everything, he smiles now.  Memories are layering themselves along his mind like puzzle pieces coming together. “Don’t worry, I have the fuel now. I just need a ship, and it’ll get me home.”

Then he's off and running for the pod bays. The hallways of the Galra battle cruiser are not unfamiliar to him anymore. He _does_ remember. By the time he glances back to the lab, the door is closed and Thace is nowhere to be found. He has more important things to do. Shiro remembers what drives him now, and it’s the person who believed in him when Shiro didn’t know any better. He’s going home to Keith.

/

“Enemy ship, coming in hot,” Coran announces from his control panel. “Aww, just a cute little guy, this ship. Can’t be anything with real firepower on it. Likely an escape pod.”

They’ve been hovering as near as they can manage to the biggest Galra fleet the could find for over a day now, hiding in the gravitational pull between a nearby planet’s rings and betting on the odds that the Galra would have kept Shiro’s body close at hand.

“That’s him,” Keith grins, even as Allura calls up the grid programmed to seek out Shiro’s quintessence signature. This time there’s not a blip, but a bright violet star burning bright enough to obscure the escape pod from the star map as it flees the Galra fleet. Lance whoops and high-fives Pidge hard enough to send her tumbling into Hunk’s side.

“Moving to intercept,” Allura announces triumphantly. “Paladins, get to your lions and escort that pod back to the ship. Be prepared for a wormhole jump as soon as everyone's aboard.”

This time, Keith and Red keep close enough to be certain Shiro can’t do anything reckless before they have him safely aboard. He even herds the pod into Red’s own hangar, the anticipation a drug making his blood thrum in his veins.

Keith’s sprint across the hangar hits full tilt as the pod’s hatch lifts open, but it’s not until he can see the whites of his eyes that Keith finally allows relief to start prying at the clumsily built walls around his heart.

He hits Shiro at full speed, knocking him back against the pod and wrapping him up in a hug that it would take a miracle of physics to break.

Shiro’s laugh fills the hangar, and strong mismatched arms are quick to return the embrace tight enough to make Keith’s ribs protest. He tucks his face into Keith’s hair, breathing him in, letting it out in bursts of tear-stained joy. He feels whole for the first time in so long -- _too long_. He pushes off the hull of the pod and swings Keith off his feet. Shiro presses an insistent kiss over the feel of Keith’s racing pulse. “I missed you,” he says across Keith’s skin.

Even from where they stand in Red’s hangar, both of them can feel the sub-vocal _purr_ from the core of the castle. It startles a laugh out of both of them.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Shiro says to Black. “You know, we have a lot of work to do, you and I.”

“She should start by training you out of your tendencies toward attempted martyrdom,” Keith says, his fingers digging protectively into Shiro’s shoulders, but there’s no snap to it the way there always was in his dreams. No, this time it’s just...fond. There’s no masking the uncompromising gratitude in his voice for Shiro’s heartbeat under his cheek, for his heart and mind finally being whole.

“Now hurry up and kiss me, would you?”

Shiro thinks it’s unwise to tease that his attempted martyrdom has prompted Keith to be more forthright in his demands for affection, but he’s appreciative nonetheless. His mouth against Keith’s is like coming home, just like he’s been hoping for since his Galra pod propelled out into the sky. He gladly pulls Keith into him like gravity, barely letting his toes touch the ground. Shiro kisses him and holds him like he could make them one out of sheer desire alone, and there’s no mistaking he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! <3


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